March 8, 2026 Essay: A Brother’s Grief
We are not born whole cloth. The fabric of who we are, of who we aspire to be, and who we become is woven over the course of our lives. What may appear to be seamless is stitched together through relationships, most especially with the threads of love shared from birth between a sister and a brother – lifetime companions on a journey of exploration, from youthful whimsy to the challenges of aging. It is a bond that can never be broken. Whether in life or after the passing of one, the threads of mutual affection are so tightly stitched into who they have become that even death cannot unravel the tapestries of their individual lives.
On Thursday of this past week, I presided at the Funeral Mass of my sister, Betty Ann, in the same church where both she and I were baptized sixteen months apart. After three weeks in the hospital, knowing that her heart was irreparably failing and she was dying, she wanted to go home, to die in the house she had lived in most of her life, first with our parents, and then with her two daughters. My sister quite clearly and repeatedly told us that she wanted to leave the hospital and go home. A woman of extraordinary religious faith, given the circumstances of her life, I believe she was telling us that she wanted to go to the one place where she would be at peace. It was so fitting that her Funeral Mass was celebrated in the same church of her baptism where her faith life began. It was her spiritual home that foreshadowed the home she so longed for at the end of her life.
I acknowledge the fact that every brother can be effusive in his comments about his sister in significant moments, such as death. With all due respect to all siblings, my sister was the real thing. She loved her family, and she loved me more than I deserved. She regularly wrote to me about how proud she was of me because of my accomplishments and that she loved me as her brother. I regret now that I failed to return the sentiments on an equally regular basis. A woman who shied away from public speaking, she was eloquent beyond words in the way in which she lived her life, cared for her family and friends, and prayed with a devotion that was inspirational. On occasions too numerous to count, she would call or text me to request prayers for someone who she believed needed them. She had an elegantly beautiful heart that shone brightly in everything she said and did. Her heart was full of goodness for so many, family, friends, and strangers. In the end, she surrendered her heart to the one who she knew would greet her warmly at the moment of her death and welcome her home.
At my sister’s Funeral Mass, I chose the gospel passage about the visit of Jesus to the home of Martha and Mary—Martha, the hard worker, and Mary, the sister who sat at the foot of Jesus. Both were attentive to Jesus, but in different ways. My sister combined both these qualities. However, unlike the story in the gospel, my sister never complained about being a diligent worker, and for that matter, never, ever, said an unkind word about anyone.
As I write this essay, I am reminded of another gospel story of Martha and Mary. It is the account of the raising of their brother, Lazarus, from his death. When Jesus asked Martha whether she believed that that he was “the resurrection and the life” and that her brother lives, Martha answered, “Yes, Lord. I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” At the end of her life, my sister revealed how much she was like Martha. She believed that her death was the beginning of a new life. Her resurrection was assured because of her deep and abiding love for Jesus and his Blessed Mother. It is that reality that we celebrated at her funeral.
As we continue our Lenten journey, we are guided by our belief that Jesus lives. He truly is the resurrection and the life. And for those of us who have or have had a sibling, let us give thanks to God for the one person who assuredly walks as a companion with us, whether in life or in death, and who one day, and in God’s time, will accompany us home.
— Fr. Dennis J. Yesalonia, S.J., Pastor