By Sally Ho
Grief is a journey that each of us will face at some point in life—a path often walked in silence and solitude. Fifteen years ago, I lost my younger brother. The pain was unknowingly overwhelming, leaving a deep hole in my heart. Today, as I share part of my grieving journey, I pray that these words may offer a glimmer of hope to those carrying the weight of losing a loved one.
No one teaches us how to deal with grief. It is not something learned in school or spoken about easily—especially in Asian culture, where sharing emotions, particularly sorrow, is not common. At the beginning of grief, we may try to hold on to faith and positivity—telling ourselves to stay strong, trusting that God will carry us through. But soon, that strength begins to waver. Grief is silent yet profound. It does not stop us from functioning in daily life, but it lingers beneath the surface, catching us off guard in small, ordinary moments.
I remember it was really difficult to understand the emotions that were going on inside of me, it just felt like a giant lump stuck inside. Happiness became fleeting, as if feeling joy would betray the memory of my brother. But a wise priest once told me during a pilgrimage to the Holy Land:
“Lay your sorrows at the foot of the cross.” For months, I wrestled with what that truly meant. Why would I burden Jesus with my pain, when I wouldn’t even share such sadness with my closest friends? Then one Holy Week, as I meditated on the gospel scene of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet, I asked him in prayer:
“Lord, how did you feel, knowing you were about to leave the ones you loved so much?” In that moment, tears flowed freely. The emotions I had buried surfaced—helplessness, sorrow, anger, and injustice. It dawned on me that Jesus himself experienced these very same emotions. He wasn’t asking me to carry my burdens alone—he was inviting me to share them with him.
I realised that perhaps offering my sorrows to Jesus is his love language—an act of trust and surrender. Like Peter in the gospel, I found myself saying: “Lord, then wash not only my feet, but also my hands and my head!” [John 13:9]
It was not an instant healing, but a journey of conversion—of allowing Jesus to enter into my pain, gently and patiently. There are no good or bad emotions—only feelings that need to be brought into the light. It is okay to be angry with God. He understands. What matters is that we invite him into our grief and allow him to transform it in his time.
Saint Augustine once said: “God, our Father, created us without our permission, but cannot save us without our cooperation.” Healing begins when we choose to lay our sorrows at the foot of the cross, trusting that Jesus can turn our mourning into dancing.
If you are walking through grief today, I invite you to pray with me:
Jesus, there is so much going on inside of me after the passing of my loved one. It’s hard for me to deal with it alone—the emotions are like a storm in the ocean. Though it is difficult to dwell on my pain, open my heart to feel your presence. Give me the courage to face my sorrow and the grace to leave it at the foot of Your cross. Let your light shine through the cracks of my broken heart, and lead me into hope once more. Amen.
Even if the light feels small right now, be not afraid. Jesus is walking with you. Trust that he is patiently waiting to transform your mourning into joy—one step, one prayer, one day at a time.
