Quotes About Grief

She was dying and he was not, and that was a barrier not even love could breach.

Once you lose someone it is never exactly the same person who comes back.

Some people think I should be over my ex by now — maybe I thought I might have been over him more by now. Maybe I'm half over who he was, but not who I thought he was, and not over the wound, sudden deathblow as if out of nowhere, though it came from the core of our life together.

I put my arms around a trunk and squeezed it, then I lay down on my father's grave.

Embracing what is We're conditioned to believe that painful feelings are "bad" and that pleasurable ones are "good." It's often easier—though not healthier—for us to avoid grief and sorrow, while only embracing sensations like happiness, confidence, and love.

The causes of familial discord and distance are countless, but the results are often the same: secrecy, blame, sadness, hurt, confusion, and feelings of loss and grief.

Grief helps us to relinquish the illusion that the past could be different from what it was.

Every time you cry, you should cry your heart out. That way you'll get the best release.

It's been nearly two hundred days since I've had sex. I see beautiful women all the time. Seattle is full of them. Hell, Stratus Solutions is, too. Since Becca's death, some of her lithe, lanky yoga friends have even hinted they'd be interested in comforting me with more than a homemade casserole and a hug. I haven't truly been tempted. Until now.

He had gone home from his office the previous morning to find her dead, lying on the hillside below their deck.

When it comes to death, we know that laughter and tears are pretty much the same thing.

When anybody, no matter how old they are, loses a parent, I think it hurts the same as if you were only five years old, you know? I think all of us are always five years old in the presence and absence of our parents.

Grief is when you feel so helpless and stupid that you think nothing will ever be right again, and your macaroni and cheese tastes like sawdust, and you can't even jerk off because it seems like too much trouble.

Somebody dies and people eat your food. Funny how that works.

Listen. I don't know how or when My grieving will end, but I'm always Relearning how to be human again.

Is the air okay? I texted. It hurts a little to breathe, my sister texted back. But we're okay. Jesus, I thought, is there a better and more succinct definition of grief than It hurts a little to breathe, but we're okay ?

So I heard the boom of my father's rifle when he shot my best friend. A bullet only costs about two cents, and anybody can afford that.

Held on to me like I was a baby. And she kept crying. So many tears. My clothes and hair were soaked with her tears. It was, like, my mother had given me a grief shower, you know? Like she'd baptized me with her pain.

she braided my sister's hair with hands that smelled deep roots buried in the earth she told me the old stories how time never mattered when she died they gave me her clock

She wanted to find a way to love them in death, because she forgot how to love them in life.

Father Arnold finished the ceremony and asked if anybody had any final words for the dearly departed. Final words? Chess asked, I don't know if I'll ever be able to stop talking about this.

Great pain is repetitive. Grief is repetitive. And, maybe, this repetition can become a chant inside a healing ceremony.

He felt split in two, one crazy man eating hair and one rational man watching a crazy man eat hair. He chewed and swallowed the last pieces of his father's life. He felt like he was building a museum of pain, a freak show, where he was the only visitor viewing the only mutant screaming the only prayer he knew: Come back, Daddy. Come back, Daddy. Come back, Daddy. Come back, Daddy. Come back, Daddy. Come back, Daddy. Come back, Daddy. Come back Daddy...

My name is Sherman Alexie and I was born from loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss and loss. And loss.