Quotes About Grief

I think everyone understands grief, the journey it takes us on, whether it's the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, a disappointment. Some people don't deal with it, the power of it. Some do. Some feel the weight of it and it informs their choices. I've had to open up to grief in different contexts.

There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.

Death has its revelations: the great sorrows which open the heart open the mind as well; light comes to us with our grief. As for me, I have faith; I believe in a future life. How could I do otherwise? My daughter was a soul; I saw this soul. I touched it, so to speak.

We always knew how to honor fallen soldiers. They were killed for our sake, they went out on our mission. But how are we to mourn a random man killed in a terrorist attack while sitting in a cafe? How do you mourn a housewife who got on a bus and never returned?

There's nothing glorious about war. There's nothing glorious about holding your friends in your arms and watching them die. There's nothing glorious about having to leave your home for 6 to 8 months while your family's back here and you're away.

I had a daughter and lost her a long while ago. That's too sad a story to go into.

While I am aware of no counsel on whether kissing should be reserved only for post-mission dating or courtship, I am aware of plenty of counsel concerning honesty in our actions and treating others with respect and kindness. Casual attitudes about expressions of affection such as kissing can cause much grief and heartache.

That is how it stiffens, my vision of that seaside childhood. My father died; we moved inland. Whereon those nine first years of my life sealed themselves off like a ship in a bottle - beautiful, inaccessible, obsolete: a fine, white, flying myth.

Mausoleum air and anguished pauses: If this production were a poem, it would be mostly white space.

Certainly I see no reason why society should prevent grieving parents from having a baby cloned from the cells of a dead child if they wish.

My mother desperately wanted children. She had a child that was stillborn - something I learned when I was looking through her 'effects' after she had died. It was then that I discovered my original birth certificate, which indicated the previous birth.

Just previous to the birth of my little son, my mind gave way and my child was born in the asylum for the insane at Stockton, Cal. My boy was buried there.

When Princess Diana died, I couldn't understand why people were mourning her death in such an enormous, hysterical way when they didn't actually know her for real.

I thought I had a handle on my priorities before Elizabeth and I lost our oldest son to stillbirth.

When my dad passed away, the NBA became a major priority for me. It became bigger than just loving basketball; I suddenly had extra motivation. I was willing to do absolutely anything I had to do to get to the NBA.

Going away to prison was nothing, I'm just saying, compared to losing my mom.

I came home to four children, and I came home to two tombstones. My mother was in one and my grandmother was in the other. They'd both passed away while I was in prison.

One thing I've heard that makes sense to me about grief is that there's this conception that it's a thing that you process, and then you're done processing it. But really it's not a thing that has an end, it's just what life is like now. You are living with this now, probably forever.

It's impossible to write and produce a record when your parents are dying. I really tried, I really, really tried, but it just wouldn't come.

I lost my father when I was 11 and it was a difficult time for the entire family. Dealing with that loss has been a very long journey.

I get so much mail from women who have lost children because one of my books is about that. There was also a period when my marriage was in difficulty, which people connected with.

I can be almost terminally grief-stricken because things are so dire, but at the same time, there's a real lightheartedness about just the recoverability of life, of how things change, how they're not the same, ever again.

There's something very bizarre about having a father who has disappeared. It's very hard to articulate.

My ex and I were devastated in 2004 when I miscarried my second. It was the first of many disappointments to come for me after a life so blessed.