Quotes About Grief

As for death one gets used to it, even if it's only other people's death you get used to.

The blue sky, the moral act, the moment of grief have their absolute validity, independent of the before and the after.

She was trying to free her mother, who had recently been deported to Auschwitz. The lawyer responded bluntly, "You can file a petition, but you will not see your mother again. Auschwitz is an extermination camp." When she received notification of her mother's death a few months later—"died of sepsis and phlegm in Auschwitz"—she considered this plausible. "Later, I found out that it was just one of many death notices issued on that day.

Would you know my name If I saw you in heaven Will it be the same If I saw you in heaven I must be strong, and carry on Cause I know I don't belong Here in heaven Would you hold my hand If I saw you in heaven Would you help me stand If I saw you in heaven I'll find my way, through night and day Cause I know I just can't stay Here in heaven

Grief is a nation of everyone, a country without borders. I roam the avenues of it out of habit.

It is raining so the earth has turned mostly to mud, and I think of what the minister said when my brother died: "The rain comes and washes away his prints, so we can move on." I wished for drought instead, so we wouldn't lose every trace, but it rained for a week straight, and despite it being April, three feet of snow landed to make sure the job was done for good.

When the realities of a fallen world hit us, we need room to worship the Lord in honest expressions of unedited grief.

Indeed, when Luther's school-yard chum Hans Reinecke wrote to him of his father's death, Luther wrote, "Seldom if ever have I despised death as much as I do now." He said that it "has plunged me into deep sadness not only because he was my father but also because he loved me very much." Even more, he says, "through him my creator has given me all that I am and have.

It's funny how death sometimes spawns renewed friendships. Maybe that's God's way of compensating the next of kin for their loss.

Obviously, losing a parent is very difficult. I miss my dad every day, but I know he would be proud to see me continuing to swim and going for another shot at the Olympics.

Last time I spoke to my mom she called me from a pay phone, and we didn't have the best talk. Ever since my stepdad passed away three years ago, she has been very depressed and hasn't been herself at all.

part of her didn't want her wounds to be healed. Not yet. She wasn't ready. She still needed to kick against the hurt of her grief. The

What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died?

If you have ever been in a real tragic or sad situation, the words that come out are hopelessly inadequate and kind of cliched.

Feathertail... No, don't leave me!

Fireheart dashed to the warrior's side. Cloudtail was standing stiff-legged, every hair in his pelt on end as if he were facing an enemy. His eyes were fixed on the limp heap of tabby fur huddled at his paws. "Why, Fireheart?" Cloudtail wailed. "Why her?" Fireheart knew, but rage and grief made it hard to speak. "Because Tigerstar wants the pack to get a taste of cat blood," he rasped. The dead cat lying in front of them was Brindleface.

Graystripe pushed past Tigerheart and Whitestorm and crouched beside his old friend. "I would have taken your place if you had let me". His voice was hoarse with grief.

Fireheart] was interrupted by a screech from Cloudtail. "Fireheart! Fireheart, Brightpaw isn't dead!" Fireheart spun around and raced across the clearing to crouch beside Brightpaw. Her white-and-ginger fur, which, she had always kept so neatly groomed, was spiky with drying blood. On one side of her face the fur was torn away, and there was blood where her eye should have been. One ear had been shredded, and there were huge claw marks scored across her muzzle.

I buried her on the shore," he whispered as Fireheart padded up and sat down beside him. "She loved the river." He raised his head to where the first stars of Silverpelt were beginning to appear. "She hunts with StarClan now," he mewed softly. "Someday I'll find her again, and we'll be together.

I have to stay here and bury her," he whispered. "Here, between RiverClan and ThunderClan. After this, not even her own Clan will want to mourn her.

Kill me. Kill me and live with the memory. Then tell the stars that you won.

Great; I get to be told I am dead all over again. -Stomfur

Where's Feathertail?" Graystripe's gaze flicked past Stormfur as if he expected to see the pale-gray she-cat waiting at the foot of the rocks. Squirrelpaw stared at her paws. Poor, poor Stormfur. He brought the worst news of all, to RiverClan as well as ThunderClan.

But she could not think of any herb that would heal his broken heart.