On the anniversary of my grandfather’s death, I called my Mom to ask how she was. She said, “People don’t really mention my parents to me anymore. Maybe they are afraid it would make me sad, but I’m already thinking about them all the time.” I began to reflect on the loneliness of grief and how layered the pain can feel when we have no means of sharing it. Shortly after, I came across the ancient practice of observing All Saints Day—a day to honor all holy people who lived faithful lives in Christ. Not martyrs, but those saintly, hidden lives known only to God.