Madeleine, who came specially from the USA to take part in a bereavement retreat at Montligeon, recounts her experience following the death of her father seven months earlier.
Accompanied by her paternal grandmother, she wanted to reconnect with her French roots, her family and her faith. In this account, she talks about the difficulties of mourning far from home. Between administrative procedures and social pressure to “move on”, she can’t really get through the ordeal she’s going through. At Montligeon, she has found a place of recollection, prayer and sharing, surrounded by other mourners. The teachings on the afterlife and the communion of saints touched her, enabling her to reconnect with a spiritual dimension she had left dormant. “I didn’t want this legacy, I just wanted to mourn my father,” she says simply. The two days at Montligeon enabled her to reconnect with her faith, deepen the bond with her French family, and experience unexpected consolation.
I’ve come in search of peace
“Hello. My name is Madeleine. My name is Madeleine.” That’s how she introduces herself, with simplicity. An American, she is taking part for the first time in a mourning retreat at the sanctuary of Notre-Dame de Montligeon. She has just gone through a difficult ordeal: the death of her father seven months ago. This loss has affected her deeply. Not only because of the absence, but also because of the wounds left by an unfinished relationship.
She didn’t go it alone. She signed up for the retreat with her grandmother, her father’s mother. Together, they arrived at this sanctuary in the heart of the Perche region of Normandy, in search of peace, consolation and perhaps even forgiveness.
Madeleine, at the sanctuary on June 6, 2025.
Finding my family
It was her aunt, her father’s sister, who told them about Montligeon. For Madeleine, this family advice was not insignificant. It invited her to take a step forward, to embark on a journey in which faith played a central role. She explains: “The Catholic religion is very important to my grandmother. It was also important to my father, before he died. I think he rediscovered his faith before he died.
Her father’s return to the faith at the end of his life resonates deeply with her. Madeleine seeks not only to understand what happened to him, but also to rediscover the spiritual bond that unites them. She says it clearly: “Being able to return to France and rediscover my own faith helped me feel a certain connection with him.”
Reconnecting with my father
The father she mourns today was not the man she would have liked to have known. The pain of grief is coupled with regret. “I had a pretty tense relationship with my father. And I missed that relationship. I missed that time.”
So for her, it’s not just a matter of coming to terms with an absence, but of revisiting a history marked by estrangement, misunderstanding and perhaps even suffering. This retreat at Montligeon enabled her to find a space where she could not simply turn the page, but reread painful chapters with a different perspective.
She expresses with emotion what this time of rest has enabled her to experience: “It’s been really great for me to be able to reconnect with him thanks to my family here.” By coming to this place, she has found a way of reconciliation. Not in fantasy or oblivion, but in a real awareness of who he was, with his contradictions, his history, his culture, and also his choices.
Rediscovering my identity
This reconnection involves rediscovering our family roots. Madeleine talks about it in detail: “I was able to learn more about his culture, his language. All the things that made him who he was. Her father had become a naturalized American citizen shortly before his death. Her personal history is thus marked by a double belonging, an identity constructed between two worlds.
For Madeleine, reconnecting with this heritage is not an intellectual or genealogical exercise, but a path to inner unification. “Reconnecting with them has really helped me to know who I am. This “them” is the living – her grandmother, her aunt, her extended family – but also her deceased. It’s a whole lineage, a family memory that she begins to explore through this stay at Montligeon.
A family to rediscover
“I discovered a big family that I hadn’t had access to before,” she confides. The bereavement retreat acts as an eye-opener. By stepping outside her daily routine and taking the time to relax, she discovers not only links with the deceased, but also with the living. She puts faces, stories and gestures to this previously hazy family memory.
This is perhaps one of the most precious aspects of this time at Montligeon: it puts the relationship back at the center. Not an idealized relationship, but an embodied one, with its frailties, silences and hopes. In this retreat setting, words flow. Silence too. Everyone can move forward at their own pace, with respect.
An inner movement, carried by a place
Madeleine emphasizes how much the sanctuary’s environment has helped her. Montligeon is not just a place of natural beauty. It’s an inhabited place, where prayer intentions, Masses for the deceased and spiritual exchanges help everyone on their journey of mourning. It’s not therapy, nor is it simply psychological support, even if it does have liberating effects. It’s a human and spiritual experience, to be lived in faith.
“I think my dad would have liked to know I came here,” she says. This simple statement says a lot. It reveals a new-found peace, but also a new-found closeness. Prayer, times of silence and the rediscovery of her own faith have enabled her to forge a new, invisible but real bond with her late father.
A deeply moving bereavement retreat
As the days went by, Madeleine felt something move inside her. She expresses an inner movement, a shift from anger to peace, from sadness to gratitude. “I had a lot of anger and sadness about this failed relationship. But I leave here with deep peace.”
Change doesn’t just happen. It’s brought about through prayer, listening to the Word, sharing and the climate of trust that characterizes these retreats. The spiritual setting of the sanctuary plays a fundamental role. Here, we pray for the dead. We talk about the afterlife, God’s mercy and the hope of eternal life. This Christian approach to death, far from extinguishing it, illuminates and transforms mourning.
Madeleine underlines the comfort and support of the chaplains, sisters and pilgrims she met at the Notre-Dame de Montligeon sanctuary: “There was an incredible sense of solidarity in this group. It was a deeply moving experience to be surrounded by people from so many different backgrounds, but united by the same ordeal. We attended several conferences on the afterlife and on praying for our departed loved ones. We have also had the grace to take part in a number of ceremonies in the basilica. Last night in particular, we offered our prayers for our departed loved ones. I think everyone cried, but I was completely overwhelmed. That moment touched me so deeply that I could hardly get up. It was an intense ordeal. And yet, after the ceremony, so many people came up to me: they surrounded me, encouraged me, hugged me and kissed me.
Why was my father taken away from me?
I was once asked if I was angry with God or someone else. This question came up again during the first series of conferences we attended with Sister Cécile. Together, we reviewed the different stages of grief. It was emphasized that this path is never linear. “It’s a spiral,” she said. You move forward, backward, forward, then back again.
To illustrate her point, she made a hand gesture, as if to draw this spiral. Yes, we go through difficult times, but sooner or later we get back on our feet. We always do. At least, I hope we do. What struck me about this conference was that, contrary to what many people might feel, I never really felt angry. And I wondered why.
My father died at 56. He wasn’t terminally ill. He didn’t smoke, not like the French. He was healthy and exercised. He took care of himself to the end. He really did. So I asked myself: why? What is the reason? What is the reason? Why was my father taken away from me?
And above all, why wasn’t I given the chance to keep it?
I would have liked this trial to be an opportunity to rekindle my relationship with God. But it didn’t. It didn’t. Not out of anger. It wasn’t anger. It was something else. Confusion. A lack of explanation. And what I was feeling wasn’t directed at anyone or God. It never was. Never, really.
“I wouldn’t use the word ‘anger’ to describe it. More like confusion.”
I will carry these teachings with me for the rest of my life.
At the end of these two days, Madeleine leaves different. Not because she had “turned the page”, but because she had allowed herself to be reached in her vulnerability. Because she dared to open the door to inner reconciliation. And because she gave her father a place in her personal history, in her memory, in her faith.
“I can say with certainty that it has been very beneficial for me. I feel much closer to my father, my grandmother, my family in France and my French roots.
The Catholic religion occupies a very important place in French life. It has touched me to the depths of my heart. I will carry these teachings with me for the rest of my life. It was a wonderful experience.
I think the main thing I’ll take away from this experience is the patience and understanding, as well as the ability and willingness to offer everyone a space where they can express their beliefs, whatever they may be. The Catholic religion is beautiful and helps enormously in the grieving process.”
Montligeon is a place of mourning, but also a place of hope. Where we come with our wounds, but from which we leave more unified. “I’m really grateful to have been able to experience this,” she concludes.
