Quotes About Grief

He had held her close for a full, silent hour, rocking her against him, soothing her numb pain, crying for both her and himself, though she herself had been unable to know the relief of tears.

And after he was gone, there would be memories to live on. But she would not think of that yet.

Even when an individual tried to fake it, the eyes still echoed loss, love, fear, or hate.

It's funny how, even long after you've accepted the grief of losing someone you love and truly have gotten on with your life, every once in a while something comes up that plays gotcha, and for a moment or tow the car tissue seperates and the wound is raw again.

Dat heeft die klootzak verdiend... - Vittoria Massi, vader van Giuliana na het doodsteken van Rinaldo di Chimici

Het doet me aan mijn Giuliana denken... Ik ben haar voorgoed kwijt. - Enrico

What if she's dead?" I said. "She'll stay dead," he said. "She'll still be dead come morning.

Silence can make somebody bigger, I've come to believe. Grief can, too. A big sad silence emanating from someone can cause you to invest that person with all manner of gravitas.)

the sweetness had gone so quickly from her

She was horribly sorry for Libby, to the point where she could hardly bear seeing her; Libby's red open mouth, continually gabbling, was like a running wound in the middle of her open face.

And it is exceedingly short, his galloping life. Dogs die so soon. I have my stories of that grief, no doubt many of you do also. It is almost a failure of will, a failure of love, to let them grow old—or so it feels. We would do anything to keep them with us, and to keep them young. The one gift we cannot give.

Where has this cold come from? "It comes from the death of your friend." Will I always, from now on, be this cold? "No, it will diminish. But always it will be with you." What is the reason for it? "Wasn't your friendship always as beautiful as a flame?

That time I thought I could not go any closer to grief without dying I went closer, and I did not die.

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us, even in the leafless winter, even in the ashy city. I am thinking now of grief, and of getting past it from "Starlings in Winter

Now of all voyagers I remember, who among them Did not board ship with grief among their maps?

What, precisely, will you grieve for? "For the river. For myself, my lost joyfulness. For the children who will not know what a river can be—a friend, acompanion, a hint of heaven.

FOR TOM SHAW S.S.J.E. (1945–2014) Where has this cold come from? "It comes from the death of your friend." Will I always, from now on, be this cold? "No, it will diminish. But always it will be with you." What is the reason for it? "Wasn't your friendship always as beautiful as a flame?

One's own dead are more than cadavers, they are place holders for the living. They are a focus, a receptacle, for emotions that no longer have one.

If other fallers read this, he will no doubt get grief about his lovely hands, but I believe a man named Dazy will handle it.

An hour? What do you do with a dead person for an hour? Mom had been sick for a long time; we'd done our grieving and crying and saying goodbye. It was like being served a slice of pie you didn't want to eat. We felt it would be rude to leave, after all the trouble they'd gone to.

On Wednesday, September 3, I'd been awake at five in the morning for an interview with Charles Gibson on Good Morning, America. Apparently, I still hadn't accepted Diana's death because at the end of our talk Charles observed, "It's wonderful to hear you speaking about her in the present tense. Do you realize you've been doing that?" I hadn't been aware of this at all.

Though I dreaded the prospect of coping with the heartbreak of the funeral on my own, I felt I had to be there at the end, no matter what. We had been with Diana at the very beginning of the courtship. We had attended her wedding with tremendous joy. We had kept in touch ever since. I had to say good-bye to her in person. I said to Pat, "We were there for the 'wedding of the century.' This will be 'the funeral of the century.' Yes, I have to go.

is it not a duty to the survivors that we should refrain from augmenting their unhappiness by an appearance of immoderate grief? It is also a duty owed to yourself; for excessive sorrow prevents improvement or enjoyment, or even the discharge of daily usefulness, without which no man is fit for society.

Yet from whom has not that rude hand rent away some dear connexion; and why should I describe a sorrow which all have felt, and must feel? The time at length arrives, when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity; and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished.