Those Who Mourn

by Heather Lebano

Some days just weigh more.

Joy and sorrow, again, link arms.

Grief doesn’t expire.

We are still celebrating Easter, but I can’t deny that today feels heavy.

I woke to news of Pope Francis’ passing whispered tenderly by my daughter. Another loss to witness and that needs space to be held. My heart broke—the sting of death once again piercing through. It added to the quiet ache I already carried—the ache that comes from all the losses that never really leave us.

There are memories tucked deep in my heart—sacred, painful, beautiful memories that I hold close. They stay between God, my family, and me. We honor them quietly. We hold space. We don’t rush past them.

Yet even in the midst of goodness—beautiful moments, ordinary days—grief lingers. It’s not something we can outrun. It’s not chasing us. It’s simply there.

We can try to ignore it. Pretend it’s not there. Push past the ache, the silence, the traditions that no longer feel the same without the ones who helped build them. But I promise—if we don’t give grief space, it will find its way out in another form.

I’ve learned this: When we don’t let grief breathe, it will find its own way to be heard.

So take the time. Let the ache speak. Let your heart breathe.

A long time ago, I told someone who was grieving, “Take all the time you need to grieve and heal.” They said no one had ever told them that before.

I still say it now.

You may not be mourning the same things I am, but you might be carrying a grief, visible or invisible, that aches just the same.

You might be mourning the loss of a leader. You might be grieving a person, a dream, a season, a chapter that ended too soon. Loss wears many faces. In the face of public mourning, private grief often rises.

So if you’re hurting today—quietly or loudly—you don’t have to justify your heaviness. You don’t have to explain your tears. You don’t have to rush back to joy. Take all the time you need.

Grief deserves space.

Your heart deserves gentleness.

It’s not just okay to mourn—it’s necessary. And even as we mourn, we do not mourn without hope. (1 Thessalonians 4:13)

There is a time for everything. Jesus Himself invites us to weep. There is a time to weep… and a time to mourn. (Ecclesiastes 3:4)

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. (Matthew 5:4)

Dueil à Ouessant by Charles Cottet – oil on canvas 1903

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