When someone dies, the world goes on making noise, but within us everything feels different. An empty chair, a photograph, or a song can suddenly awaken longing. Perhaps you weep a great deal. Perhaps you cannot cry. Perhaps you feel sadness, anger, fear, or relief after a long illness—and then guilt for that relief. Grief can hold many feelings at once.
None of them means that you loved too little. Nor is there a clock that determines when longing should end. Christian faith offers hope in the resurrection, but it does not command us to hide our tears. Faced with the death of Lazarus, Jesus wept. He knew hope and, even so, entered into his friends’ pain.
This page does not explain why that person died. It offers a place to say their name, give thanks for the love you shared, and ask for companionship to make it through today.
Where does this prayer come from?
This is an original prayer by Portal São Francisco. It was not written by Saint Francis. It is inspired by Jesus’ tears, by the Christian hope that death does not have the final word, and by the Franciscan way of calling death itself a sister—not because it ceases to hurt, but because even this limit can be placed in God’s hands.
Near the end of his life, Francis wrote of “Sister Bodily Death” in the Canticle of the Creatures. His words do not diminish the grief of those who remain. They acknowledge that no creature escapes death and invite us to pass through it trusting in God’s love.
Prayer when we lose someone
Jesus,
today my longing has a name.
I say it before you:
keep the one who has departed in your love.
You know the story we shared,
the conversations that ended,
and the words left unsaid.
Thank you for the gestures of affection,
for ordinary days,
for the laughter that still lives within me.
Receive also what was difficult,
the unanswered questions,
the weariness, anger, and guilt.
When I weep,
do not let me be ashamed.
When the tears do not come,
remind me that every heart grieves in its own way.
When someone tries to explain everything too quickly,
give me a place of silence.
When I feel the absence,
send people who know how to remain.
Care for our family and our friends.
Give rest to those who are exhausted,
courage to those who fear tomorrow,
and tenderness to those who feel alone.
Lord of life,
I entrust this person to your mercy.
I do not know what the path of longing will be like,
but I ask you: walk with me today.
May hope not erase memory.
May memory not prevent me from living.
And may the love I received
continue to bring forth goodness through my hands.
Remain with us in the night,
until your morning enfolds us.
Amen.
Original prayer by Portal São Francisco, inspired by Christian hope and the Canticle of the Creatures.
How to pray this prayer
If you wish, place a photograph or an object that brings back a good memory near you. Slowly say the name of the person who died. Then read only as far as you can. You may pause the prayer, breathe, and ask someone to remain beside you.
At the end, share a memory: aloud, in a notebook, or with someone you love. It does not need to be a grand story. It may be their way of smiling, a meal, a piece of advice, or an ordinary day. Remembering is a way of acknowledging that this love was part of your life.
Seek companionship in grief. Speak with your family, a friend, someone you trust, or someone trained to help. If the sadness becomes unbearable, if you think about harming yourself or no longer wanting to live, tell a safe adult immediately and seek emergency care. Asking for help is an act of courage.
Before dawn
In the artwork on this page, the lamp is unlit. The friar does not try to force it alight or offer an explanation. He simply sits beside the grieving person. On the horizon, morning is still only a very thin line. There are nights when this is the truest form of hope: someone does not leave.
Grief is not a staircase on which each step is left behind for good. It is more like the sea: there are calm days and unexpected waves. Dates, places, and scents can bring back an old sadness. This does not mean that you have returned to the beginning.
Christian hope does not turn death into something beautiful. Death is separation, and it hurts. Our hope is in God, who raised Jesus and promises to wipe away tears. While we wait, we are invited to care for one another.
Perhaps today it is too soon to look toward the horizon. Then look only at the presence beside you. Breathe. Drink some water. Accept companionship. Love does not require you to run through the night.
Explore the sources
- Holy See — Catechism of the Catholic Church, 988–1065 — presents human death and the Christian hope of resurrection.
- Holy See — Audience on grief in the family, 17 June 2015 — acknowledges the right to weep and recalls that Jesus also wept.
- Franciscans — The Canticle of the Creatures — an authentic text by Francis that calls bodily death a sister.
- Bible: John 11:17–44; Romans 8:31–39; Revelation 21:1–5 — the tears of Jesus, love that does not abandon us, and hope for a renewed creation.