Quotes About Grief

I think Mark's death was

Sono morto come è morta lei, ma non so ancora perchè d'improvviso lei abbia voluto morire se lei viveva così bene, per questo mentre morivo non riuscivo a chiudere gli occhi, il vecchio Tang me li ha sfregati con forza come se stesse affilando un coltello, ma non c'è riuscito nemmeno lui a chiuderli. Dicono che tutti quelli che muoiono ingiustamente tengono gli occhi spalancati per poter continuare ad occuparsi dei loro cari.

Grief is as contagious as a yawn.

It seemed odd that in Henry's company I'd felt nothing while there, but in the face of Betsy Bowers's cold authority, all my unprocessed sorrow was surfacing. I took

Climp. After Sloan's death, the two boys decided to move in with their dad. Joey was in the same graduating class she was. His brother

You'd think she'd be relieved, I said. From what I hear, he beat the shit out of her. Not at first. She was crazy about him when he first got out. Still is, actually. That's probably why she called him the world's biggest asshole at the funeral, I remarked.

my mother died of an overdose of sleeping pills after extensive surgery so that the cause of death was probably listed as despair.

Bobby was buried on Saturday. . . . I wasn't going to lose control in a public setting like this. Even so, there were moments when I could feel my face heat up and my eyes blur with tears. It was more than this loss. It was all death, every loss - my parents, my aunt.

sorrow not only twists the heart, but also dims the eyes. Only the very wise can see good in the earth when they are grieving.

Her thoughts immediately brought to mind a line by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: "I shall but love thee better after death." Some pains are sweet.

Abruptly, they seemed alike to me and equally dear: my father, my son. I felt as though my father had been waiting for this moment to be born to me as the young man he'd been, so touchingly willing to bear witness to his conscience; and the surprise of this new sense of him, this birth, was a gift to me, a sudden balm in those days of my most intense grief.

Loss takes up inside of everything sooner or later and eats right through it.

The sorry truth is you can walk your feet to blisters, walk till kingdom-com, and you never will outpace your grief.

Still everyone, including the abbot, had said that he was running away from his grief. They'd had no idea what they were talking about. He'd cradled his grief, almost to the point of loving it. For so long he refused to give it up, because leaving it behind was like leaving her.

I didn't know how to be in the world without her.

You'll be devastated and grief-stricken, but there's a place in you that is inviolate-it's the surest part of you, a piece of Sophia herself. You'll find your way there, when you need to. And you'll know then what I speak of.

The sorry truth is you can walk your feet to blisters, walk till kingdom-come, and you never will outpace your grief.

Rebirth is almost impossible without the darkness.....I tell myself I am experiencing the death of myself as mother, the death of myself as a younger woman -- precious old lives going by the wayside. Of course, I should let myself grieve. To deny the grief is to squander a transforming and radiant possibility.

I feared my grief would turn to despair, that it would become a skin I couldn't shed.

Does he think my writing is not a prayer? Does he think because I hold a pen I don't grieve?

I knew it would be selfish to pour this into her cup when it was already to the brim with grief for May.

My first and only memory of my mother was the day she died.

Sarah shifted on the bench. I worried she was winding up to say something, that Sky would start humming now, that the fright spring-coiled inside me would break loose. Then I remembered the widow dress I was wearing. I made a sound with my lips like I was trying to give him an answer, but choking on the words, seized by my grief, and I didn't have to pretend that much. I felt sorrow for my life, for what I'd lived and seen and known, for what was lost to me, and the weeping turned real.

I said out loud, Damn you for saving yourself. How come you left me with nothing but to love you and hate you, and that's gonna kill me, and you know it is. Then I turned round, went back to the cellar room, and picked up the sewing. Don't think she wasn't in every stitch I worked. She was in the wind and the rain and the creaking from the rocker. She sat on the wall with the birds and stared at me. When darkness fell, she fell with it.