Quotes About Grief

Man cannot grieve as dogs do. But we grieve for many years.

Men cannot grieve as dogs do. We should be grateful for that.

And my father is dead. She did not speak the words aloud, but the reality of them cut her again, deeper and sharper. It seemed to her that each time she thought she had grasped the fact of his death, a few moments later it struck her again even harder.

Men cannot grieve as dogs do. But we grieve for many years.

Had she learned to feel again, only to have to feel this? Could any amount of love ever be worth the pain of losing it?

She wasn't coming back. I held myself together by refusing to think of her. This empty room jerked the blindfold from my eyes.

We needn't feel forced or pushed to move on before we're ready. Letting go of the way we hoped things would be is not an easy or overnight task. We will need to be patient with ourselves and throw out any timetable we had for how or when the grief would be complete.

I found that the only way I could control this sorrow was not to think of [it] at all, which was almost as painful as the loss itself.

Dig a small hole in the earth. Ask Mother Earth to help you as you release your grief (the grief can be over a specific thing or a general feeling that is weighing you down). Cry over and into the hole in the earth for as long as you need to. Feel her receive your tears without judgment.

Mazy Watts, Charlotte, and a chorus of others who slowly gathered to the porch that night and sang until the sun came up. Maybe thirty people showed, maybe more, from who knows where, to sing, to praise, to give thanks, to ask for forgiveness, to ask for salvation, to lament, to exalt, to grieve, to accept, to weep, to live, to die, to sing the gospel. It was as if church were open all night under the stars.

Weep! Weep!" calls a toad from the water's edge. And I do. If grief can be a doorway to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again.

until we can grieve for our planet we cannot love it—grieving is a sign of spiritual health. But it is not enough to weep for our lost landscapes; we have to put our hands in the earth to make ourselves whole again. Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.

If grief can be a door way to love, then let us all weep for the world we are breaking apart so we can love it back to wholeness again

Joanna Macy writes that until we can grieve for our planet we cannot love it—grieving is a sign of spiritual health. But it is not enough to weep for our lost landscapes; we have to put our hands in the earth to make ourselves whole again. Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.

But I need to remember that the grief is the settlers' as well. They too will never walk in a tallgrass prairie where sunflowers dance with goldfinches. Their children have also lost the chance to sing at the Maple Dance. They can't drink the water either.

my heart grieves for the one who could have told me stories of sweetgrass. All my life I have felt that loss. What was stolen at Carlisle has been a knot of sorrow I've carried like a stone buried in my heart.

Can settlers be trusted to follow Nanabozho, to walk so that "each step is a greeting to Mother Earth"? Grief and fear still sit in the shadows, behind the glimmer of hope. Together they try to hold my heart closed. But I need to remember that the grief is the settlers' as well. They too will never walk in a tallgrass prairie where sunflowers dance with goldfinches. Their children have also lost the chance to sing at the Maple Dance. They can't drink the water either.

I just stand there, tears running down my cheeks in nameless emotion that tastes of joy and of grief. Joy for the being of the shimmering world and grief for what we have lost.

In my room, in the dark, I understood what I never had before, what no one else seemed to. I understood how a boy could go into the woods with a bullet and a gun and not come out. That there was no conspiracy, no evil influences or secret rituals; that sometimes there was only pain and the need to make it stop.

People tend to treat a miscarriage like a heavy period but it's a death. You lost your baby. You have to take time to grieve.

My God, thank you for bringing her. It's like a trip into the past. Hannah looks just like her. My sweet little Terri." And Vanni was reminded, not for the first time, that the loss of a child is probably the most brutal loss of all, no matter that child's age. *

We can walk his last steps. We can retrieve his bones to be laid to rest next to his mother's. But we'll still never know everything that happened to Tim. Sooner or later, his father and his friends will have to come to terms with that. That the quality of their future sleep won't be determined by a visit to his grave, but by their ability to let go.

If you hoard other people's tragedies, does that make your own easier to bear?

It's the sheriff," he said solemnly, the corners of his mouth twisting downward. "He didn't make it." "What?" Pescoli exploded. "What the hell are you talking about?