Quotes About Grief

pretty much everyone bore the brutal imprint of love, whether lost, whipped away from them or simply vanished into a grave.

To commit to Sam was to commit to the likelihood of more loss.

I can't delete my brother's voice mail message. I have a little listen to his voice when I feel like I'm going to forget what he sounds like.

quieted into sniffs and hiccups, leaving her to shake

Qué fue lo mas difícil? - ¿Perdone? - De trabajar con William Traynor. - Dejarlo ir.

But then I knew better than anyone how the persona you chose to present to the world could be very different from what was really inside. I knew how grief could make you behave in ways you couldn't even begin to understand.

Those early months, it was as if I had lost a layer of skin – I felt everything more intensely. I woke up laughing, or crying, saw everything as if a filter had been removed. I ate new foods, walked strange streets, spoke to people in a language that wasn't mine. Sometimes I felt haunted by him, as if I was seeing it all through his eyes, heard his voice in my ear.

I think people get bored of grief', said Nathasha. 'It's like you're allowed some unspoken allotted time - six months, maybe - and then they get faintly irritated that you're not "better". It's like you are being self-indulgent hanging on to your unhappiness.

have given up my best years and watched my friends freeze, drown and burn. I have given up my innocence, my friends their lives, so that I might grieve for what I was never sure I even wanted. At least, until it was too late.

Suddenly she turned and, spotting me by the entrance, waved, her smile wide, her hair flying up around her face. "Hey, Lou!" she yelled. "I meant to say to you. Moving on doesn't mean you loved my dad any less, you know. I'm pretty sure even he would tell you that.

none of us move on without a backward look. We move on always carrying with us those we have lost. What we aim to do in our little group is ensure that carrying them is not a burden, something that feels impossible to bear, a weight keeping us stuck in the same place. We want their presence to feel like a gift. "And

relationship. She had lost the man she loved.

I felt a little better. I did. I reminded myself of something else Marc had said: that no journey out of grief was straightforward. There would be good days and bad days. Today was just a bad day, a kink in the road to be traversed and survived.

none of us move on without a backward look. We move on always carrying with us those we have lost.

Vi?a zaud?jums ir gluži k? kr?t?s izrauts caurums, nerimstoša smeldze, tukšums, kuru man nekad neizdosies aizpild?t.

We move on always carrying with us those we have lost. What we aim to do in our little group is ensure that carrying them is not a burden that feels impossible to bear, a weight keeping us stuck in the same place. We want their presence to feel like a gift.

no journey out of grief was straightforward. There would be good days and bad days. Today was just a bad day, a kink in the road, to be traversed and survived. I

You know, you don't have to be sad just to stay connected to him.

You know... it's fine to be sad. Really. You're allowed to be sad about losing someone you love'... 'Losing someone you love is... it's actually unbearable. I do understand that.

I knew better than anyone how sometimes you just needed to be allowed to feel sad.

that no journey out of grief was straightforward. There would be good days and bad days. Today was just a bad day, a kink in the road, to be traversed and survived. I

I think people get bored of grief,' said Natasha. 'It's like you're allowed some unspoken allotted time – six months, maybe – and then they get faintly irritated that you're not "better". It's like you're being self-indulgent hanging on to your unhappiness.' 'Yes!

Lloré. Esta vez no fueron unos sollozos. Las lágrimas me abandonaron en silencio, señal de que algo más me abandonaba. La culpa. El miedo. Otras emociones para las que no tenía palabras

Sometimes I felt as if we were all wading around in grief, reluctant to admit to others how far we were wading or drowning.