During Holy Mass, I saw the Lord, who said to me, Lean your head on My breast and rest. The Lord pressed me to His Heart and said, I shall give you a small portion of My Passion, but do not be afraid, be brave; do not seek relief, but accept everything with submission to My will (Diary, 1053).
When the Beloved was at the Last Supper in John 13:23, he leaned on Jesus to rest. Yet, that rest means preparing oneself for the Cross.
"Cleanse me with your hyssop" says the psalmist in 51. St. John the Beloved had observed the hyssop that was used to skewer the lambs of sacrifice also being used to press the quench of thirst to Christ's lips.
I have struggled to describe the duality of Grief: you are both torn asunder and filled by grace in the same breath, you are like an Ampersand, you are like the counterpoint melody living a bass clef and treble simultaneously, you are Abundance over Fear.
Yet this versicle resonates more than any other. Grief skewers what you love while Divine Mercy is being poured out upon your soul as a purifying balm. Lord, have mercy! St. John the Beloved, pray for us!
May my wife's soul and all the souls of the faithful departed, in your Mercy, rest in peace!
Here is a poem I found at Happy Catholic:
Rest Eternal Grant Them, Lord!
Take we up the touching burden of November plaints,
Pleading for the Holy Souls, God’s yet uncrowned Saints.
Still unpaid to our departed is the debt we owe;
Still unransomed, some are pining, sore oppressed with woe.
Friends we loved and vowed to cherish call us in their need:
Prove we now our love was real, true in word and deed.
“Rest eternal grant them, Lord!” full often let us pray—
“Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine!”
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