Quotes About Grief

to talk at length about her mother and father, whom she has not seen since their deaths in the late 1800s. The greatest insight to emerge from those sessions was that Etna

She was sad about what happened to Kostos. And someplace under that, she was sad that people like Bee and Kostos, who had lost everything, were still open to love, and she, who'd lost nothing, was not.

Grief was like a newborn, and the first three months were hard as hell, but by six months you'd recognized defeat, shifted your life around, and made room for it.

He took her in his arms right away. I'm so sorry, he murmured in her ear. He rocked her, saying it over and over. But no matter how many times he said it, no matter how much she knew he meant it, the words stirred around in her ear but didn't get into her brain. Sometimes he could comfort her. Sometimes he said what she needed, but today he couldn't reach her. Nothing could.

They needed to grieve alone was what Tibby's dad said. Lena wondered if really there was any choice in that. Everyone grieved alone.

She got under the covers and put her arms around the bag. She could smell Tibby. It used to be she couldn't smell Tibby's smell in the way you couldn't smell your own; it was too familiar. But tonight she could. This was some living part of Tibby still here and she held on to it. There was more of Tibby with her here and now than in what she had seen in the cold basement room that day.

Bridget cried for the leavers and the left. For the people, like herself, grimly forsaking what few precious gifts they would ever get. She cried for Bailey, for Tibby, for the resolute clump of cells making headway in her uterus, and for Marly, her poor, sad mother, who'd missed everything.

Le chagrin, c'est comme un nouveau-né, les trois premiers mois, c'est l'enfer et, au bout de six mois, on finit par s'avouer vaincu, on réorganise sa vie en fonction de lui, on lui fait de la place.

The world was full of death, full of sadness, full of people, full of people too broken to lean on.

Toda su vida desde que Bailey había muerto le parecía de pronto como el vagabundeo lejano de un amnésico, lleno de confusión y olvido.

And someplace under that, she was sad that people like Bee and Kostos, who had lost everything, were still open to love, and she, who'd lost nothing, was not.

Jennifer's father, Randy Ertman, summarized our feelings toward Medellin in his statement to the court when the last three defendants were sentenced to death: "I hope you rot in hell. I honest to God mean that. I hope they rot in hell, sir. I hope to be there when you die, you sick pieces of (censored). Thank you, Your Honor, for allowing me to speak. I appreciate it, sir."15 That doesn't move the story along; I just admired his eloquence.

She understood that grief is not neat and orderly; it does not follow any rules. Time does not heal it. Rather, time insists on passing, and as it does, grief changes but does not go away. Sometimes she could actually visualize

We spend so much of our grief looking for answers to explain what cannot be explained.

Birthdays of a child who has died are strange events.

That even in grief, we must take tentative steps back into the world. That even in grief, we must eat. And that when we share that food with others, we are reclaiming those broken bits of our lives, holding them out as if to say, I am still here. Comfort me. As if with each bite, we remember how it is to live.

Even after Mr. Kingbridge and Mrs. Amer left the stage, no one moved. The thought of going to class seemed absurd, but there really wasn't anything we could do except cry. For Amelia. For her family. And for ourselves. We (practically every member of the Baby-sitters Club) sat in the auditorium for nearly an hour. Every few minutes one of us would break down and cry. It just didn't seem possible that something so awful could have happened to someone our age, someone we knew.

Reverend Downey tried to focus the service on remembering happy days with Amelia, but all I could think about was the unfairness of life. How was it possible that an irresponsible drunk could cause an accident, kill a perfectly innocent girl and walk away almost without a scratch? There seemed to be no justice in the world.

The burial service began. It was quite short, but Stacey remembers much more about it than I do. All I remember is thinking, as the casket was being lowered into the ground, Mimi's not in there. So I didn't cry. A bunch of men were just putting a box in the ground. That was all. Then Mom made me throw a white rose into the hole. I thought, What's the point? Mimi won't see it, but I did it anyway (since we were being formal).

All I wanted was something normal, a day like last Tuesday when Mimi was still alive, which was less than a week ago. I wanted to walk to Stoneybrook Middle School with Mary Anne, open the side door, which we sometimes use because it's close to my locker, saunter through the halls, look for the other club members or maybe for Dorrie Wallingford or Ashley Wyeth or some other friend, and hope that a boy would notice my outfit and smile at me.

Normally, my friends and I laugh and joke while we walk to school. Not today. Just the thought that someone we knew might have died put a dark cloud over everything. The main building of Stoneybrook Middle School loomed in the distance, and my heart started thudding faster. I think everyone's did.

Now? Why now? Why am I missing her now, Frankie? Why not then? When she was there? Why am I afraid that I'm gonna' lose her when she's already gone. And this fear--this fear swarms through me--floods my whole body 'til there's nothing left. Nothing left of me. And then it turns--it turns to a fear for my whole life. Like my whole life is lost from losing her. Gone. That I'll die like this. Lost. Just lost.

Death is the period at the end of a sentence. Someone gone, but still out there, is an ellipsis...or a question to be answered.

Ling, my soul you sting, in pain I sing, my coffin you bring.