Quotes About Grief

That was the true terror of love, that you could love with your whole heart, your whole soul, and lose both

You cannot die from grief, though it feels like you can. A heart does not actually break, though sometimes you chest aches as if it is breaking. Grief dims with time. It is the way of things. There comes a day when you smile again, and you feel like a traitor. How dare I feel happy. How dare I be glad in a world my father is no more. And then you cry fresh tears, because you do not miss him so much as you once did, and giving up your grief is another kind of death.

You cannot miss what you never had, but you can miss forever the man you loved and lost.

I took a fresh mug of coffee. Grilling grieving families always goes down better with caffeine.

Watching St John rock his wife's body was not part of my job description. Honest. I sat down on the stairs where I could see the door, the hallway, and the stairs as far as the landing. St John started singing in a strange, broken voice. It took me a few minutes to figure out what he was singing. It was 'You are so Beautiful

I used to think that only death could take someone away from me, but I have learned so many lesser things could steal someone away. Just as completely; just as forever.

Is he your only child? I asked, my only son padma said. My condolences I said....Anita Blake

Yeah, it is, because anger will help me keep moving until the job is done. Sadness won't. Grief won't. Anxiety won't. All those touchy-feely emotions that are supposed to be what make us human or whole or whatever will cripple you in the middle of a battle.

Grief isn't a neat series of stages. You can jump around in the stages, you can get stuck at one point or the other, and you even get to revisit stages you've already finished. Grief isn't a neat, orderly kind of thing. It's messy, and it sucks.

The tears were back, stinging just behind my eyes. There was blood all over my penguins. I didn't give a damn about the walls and carpet. They could be replaced, but I'd collected those damned stuffed toys over years. I let the paramedic lead me away. Tears trickling down my cheeks. I wasn't crying, my eyes were running. My eyes were running because there were pieces of zombie all over my toys. Jesus.

He came to me then, wrapped his arms around me. I stayed stiff in his arms for a moment, and then I collapsed into his body. I clung to him. I let his strength and his nearness hold me. I let him hold me while I wept and screamed and wailed. I lost it completely, and Richard held me while I did it.

Is anger always your go-to emotion?" he asked, sounding angry himself. "Yeah, it is, because anger will help me keep moving until the job is done. Sadness won't. Grief won't. Anxiety won't. All those touchy-feely emotions that are supposed to be what make us human or whole or whatever will cripple you in the middle of a battle.

Death smashes a crater into your life, and you're left alone to sort through the rubble.

In the wake of a human being's death, what survives is a set of afterglows, some brighter and some dimmer, in the collective brains of those who were dearest to them...Though the primary brain has been eclipsed, there is, in those who remain...a collective corona that still glows. - Douglas Hofstadter

Strange, that the thought of him still evoked such bitterness in her. She had thought death would have conquered that, transmuting bitterness to grief and recriminations to guilt. For a time it had. But like an alchemist's experiments, the transformation had proved illusory.

Loss. A strange word. It seemed to mean an absence, something missing; but loss was also a presence all its own, a fanged and snarling monster ready at any moment to break its chain and snatch someone away.

I believe that the purpose of death is the release of love.

From Laurie Colwin: Lovely writing! About grief she writes: I realized that grief is metabolic: it crawls through you like a disease and takes your energy away. Then it gathers and hits like a sudden migraine, like being hit by a car, like having a large, flat rock hurled at your chest.

You're not dead, but you're not alive, either. You're a wintergirl.

Leaning against my father, the sadness finally broke open inside me, hollowing out my heart and leaving me bleeding. My feet felt rooted in the dirt. There were more than two bodies buried here. Pieces of me that I didn't even know were under the ground. Pieces of dad, too.

I want to tell him that it's just a stupid car, but bits of me are scattered all over town; the graveyard, school, Cassie's room, the motel, and standing in from of the sink in my mother's kitchen. It takes too much energy to gather all the bits together, so I just sit there and watch him implode.

You're not dead but you're not alive. You're a wintergirl.

Maybe we'll run away to South America after the funeral and raise goats

My momma and poppa appeared from the shadows. They flew to me and wrapped their arms around me and cooled my face with their ghost tears.