Quotes About Grief

I don't think, until you've actually lost somebody you really love, that you can go through that door that allows you to be grown-up.

We love our dear ones deeply and miss them when they leave us. But we know that the bond of love is greater than death.

My sisters and I miss our dad dreadfully. But grief, of course, is the price of love.

Isn't the most sensitive point of this mourning the fact that I must lose a language — the amorous language? No more 'I love you's.

Whoever finds love beneath hurt and grief disappears into emptiness with a thousand new disguises

My uncle used to love me, but she died.

What's grief but the after-blindness/of the spirit's dazzle of love?

Dead people are easy to love. It's the living ones who are hard.

When you lose someone you love, they never really leave you. They just move into a special place in your heart.

Hell, madame, is to love no longer.

The idea of losing someone that you love could throw you into a situation where you could not see your future and you really would be living in the past.

Love remembered and consecrated by grief belongs, more clearly than the happy intercourse of friends, to the eternal world; it has proved itself stronger than death.

Benjamin, we're meant to lose the people we love. How else would we know how important they are to us?

Grief moves us like love. Grief is love, I suppose. Love as a backwards glance.

because there is something beautiful in grief, isn't there? It's like mourning is your Chrysalis and when the time comes you'll be reborn as this beautiful butterfly.

Everyone in the room looks at him, horrified by the sight of unfettered glee in a shiva house, but in a minute or so he'll be done laughing, and then, to anyone who sees him, his tear-streaked face and red eyes will seem entirely appropriate.

So his actual death itself was less of an event than a final sad detail.

Childhood feels so permanent, like it's the entire world, and then one day it's over and you're shoveling wet dirt onto your father's coffin, stunned at the impermanence of everything.

This happens a lot, I've noticed. People form shiva alliances, arriving together to eliminate the risk of a one-on-one with the bereaved.

You didn't invent grief. My shrink once told me that." "Really? Your shrink told you about me?

Grief can be catered just like anything else.

You never know when it will be the last time you'll see your father, or kiss your wife, or play with your little brother, but there's always a last time. If you could remember every last time, you'd never stop grieving.

Childhood feels so permanent, like it's the entire world, and then one day it's over and you're shoveling wet dirt onto your father's coffin, stunned at the impermanence of everything.

Closure is bullshit. In the absence of some kind of biological memory wipe, there is no such thing. Personal loss is always with us. We learn to live with it; we don't make it go away.