Quotes About Grief

The trouble was that I could not now think of my marriage without being assaulted by a wave of  unbearable emotions which I felt quite unable to handle. Rage that Kim should have been deceiving me on such a huge scale, coupled with horror at his disastrous involvement with Mrs. Mayfield, were followed by grief that my love had apparently been a grand illusion, coupled with a violent, unforgiving self-disgust that I should have made such a devastating mess of my personal life …

Grief manifests differently in different people. We all get through things in our own time.

pound mutt that doesn't belong in a hospital." "Oh." Mrs. Riley's eyes filled with tears. "We had a dog. A small Yorkie. She died a few months ago. I know Kalinda misses her terribly. I remember reading something about hospitals using therapy dogs. Do you think that would help?" She was a mother who loved her

Grief is natural, but when left alone it grows into something bigger. Something that steals hope. You shut down and no one gets in. The walls get bigger.

There was no quiet, delicate crying, only body-wrenching sobs that clawed at her soul and left her with nothing but a sense of emptiness that she was afraid would never go away.

When she'd heard the news on the phone it had torn a hole in her and she went immediately hard and did not cry. If she let herself feel, the part of her that was left would be riddled wigth holes and there'd be nothing left. She had not, since then, shed a tear. Her body shut down; to allow feeling would sink her

So she attended classes which were throughly altered now, as. if a water wash had brushed over everything, streaking lines, and pulling the color out. Grief turned out to be slow moving. Situations which at another time would be anxious-making were far less so now. What did anything matter? What could possibly be worrisome. She would therefore, have been less nervous than usual to walk with Mr. Tower to his car.

Sadness is thick, like a heavy fog that clouds your vision so you can't see any of the good things around you. But grief is something else. It's not fog, it's a storm. It rages inside you, tearing at your organs, pulling at your heart, lungs, skin, until they feel like they are going to rip wide open, exposing the most delicate parts of you, leaving them bloody and raw.

Grief is savage, like love. I think maybe it's the same thing as love? It's love that is trapped inside you, a bird that can't spread its wings so it flaps violently in protest until it's exhausted and broken and utterly without hope. No, grief is not sadness. It's love that is desperately, urgently lost, an intense longing that pools in your lungs and balls up in your throat, so that when you try to talk it just pours out of you like sludge.

This wasn't about him and his grief. It was about figuring out what was best for Derek's kids. If he started letting himself feel his loss in the depths of his soul, he might get sucked so far down into a dark hole that he'd never find his way out. And that would make him useless to these children.

She'd always thought a broken heart would heal with time. Now she knew the hurt only went deeper with each passing day.

He was killed while serving in the military, during operation Desert Storm." She had only the vaguest recollection of the conflict. She had been in grade school when it was going on, and the conflict had been as remote as a space shuttle launch. Seeing the man in the picture, with his hauntingly familiar smile, suddenly made it real to her. "I'm terribly sorry.

She realized that no matter how old she got or how far she traveled, she would never stop needing her mom. Now, staring her in the face, was the possibility of a loss so devastating Sonnet didn't see how she could survive it.

Gran was gone. She had passed quietly one night in springtime, and Annie's world shifted on its axis. The pain of this grief was like nothing she had ever felt before.

Although it seemed impossible to find joy in the depths of her grief, Annie sensed that this was what Gran had been trying to tell her all along. She finally understood. This hurt she felt was the price of loving with her whole heart. But having Gran in her life had been worth every moment of pain.

In time, the grief turned into a dull ache with occasional flares of agony. It was like a fading bruise Annie forgot about until she bumped into a memory. Gran. It was the little moments that pierced most sharply, the remembrance of a smile, a gesture, a soft-voiced phrase.

Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with." —Mark Twain

How do we do this?" she whispered, overwhelmed. "How do we bear the unbearable?" "Sometimes we don't," he said simply. "Sometimes we just breathe.

Love doesn't stop when you lose someone," Carmella said. "And you don't want it to. Wrap your heart around the memories, honey, and keep him alive within you.

Questions swelled inside her, tangling with questions that would never be answered. The trouble with being angry with a dead person, she reflected, was that you could never sit down with her, talk things out, get an explanation, make amends.

My last thought before I fell asleep was: He is dead. My only friend. My only enemy.

It is these black clothes, said Strange. I am like a leftover piece of funeral, condemned to walk about the Town, frightening people into thinking of their own mortality.

This creature softened my heart of stone. She died and with her died my last warm feelings for humanity.

lifeless body, lying twisted and