Every May, my mind and heart turn to our graduating class at Notre Dame. I know how fun and exciting that period leading up to graduation can be, but I also know how difficult it is to say goodbye to the Golden Dome. I still remember when the thrill of my own commencement Sunday abruptly gave way to the tears of Monday’s car ride home to New Jersey and the summer of mourning that followed.

Jesus’ disciples had even more to mourn when their own period of education and formation came to a tragic end. The joy and wonder of their years spent proclaiming the kingdom of heaven, healing the sick, and dining nightly with the Son of God suddenly broke down into the fear, uncertainty, and grieving of Holy Saturday.

The sobering reality of our Christian journey is that discipleship will always entail more than just rejoicing in the presence of the Lord and giving thanks in times of plenty. We will inevitably experience suffering, loss, and injustice as well, and if we receive these moments with tender hearts, we will indeed grieve and mourn.

However, in Easter’s first light, we need not mourn alone nor without hope. On that Sunday 2,000 years ago, the pain of our mourning was forever transformed by the glory of Christ’s resurrection. Now our mourning is joined to the suffering of Christ’s passion, and it is accompanied by the sorrow of Our Lady who stood at the foot of his cross. Our mourning no longer speaks solely of loss, but it also embodies a longing for the healing, reconciliation, and new life that we Christians trust will come.

In periods of loss and transition, grieving and mourning are necessary, and as members of the one Body of Christ, we are even called to mourn on behalf of others as well. So, let us at times mourn, but may we never do so in despair. New life comes—in this life, in the life of the kingdom to come, and believe it or not, class of 2025, even after graduation from Notre Dame.