Quotes About Grief

And the terrible thing, the terrible thing is, but the good thing too, the saving grace, is that if something happened to one of us--excuse me for saying this--but if something happened to one of us tomorrow, I think the other one, the other person, would grieve for a while, you know, but then the surviving party would go out and love again, have someone else soon enough. All this, all of this love we're talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory.

Grief Woke up early this morning and from my bed looked far across the Strait to see a small boat moving through the choppy water, a single running light on. Remembered my friend who used to shout his dead wife's name from hilltops around Perugia. Who set a plate for her at his simple table long after she was gone. And opened the windows so she could have fresh air. Such display I found embarrassing. So did his other friends. I couldn't see it. Not until this morning.

There were things he wanted to say, grieving things, consoling things, things like that.

Es eso lo que sucede cuando muere un amigo? ¿La mala suerte para los camaradas que deja atrás?

È un pezzo ormai che mi manchi. Mi sei mancato tanto che ormai è come se ti fossi perso, non so come spiegarlo. Ti ho perso. Non sei più mio.

The wet air was as cold as the ashes of love.

From Raymond Chandler Speaking On his wife, after her death- For 30 years, 10 months and four days, she was the light of my life, my whole ambition. Anything I did was just the fire for her to warm her hands at. That is all there is to say. She was the music heard faintly on the edge of sound.

Dead men are heavier than broken hearts. It

Un muerto es más pesado que un corazón roto.

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Talon said, 'It doesn't matter. They are all dead.' He felt moisture gathering in his eyes and blinked. 'It's been a while since I've felt that.' Caleb nodded. 'It never goes away, completely. But you'll discover other things in life.

It wasn't surprising and it wasn't quite real. I kept thinking it was a bizarre mistake or a made-up story, until I called her mother, who told me how beautifully made up Marine's corpse was and urged me to see her at the funeral chapel. This with her cigarettes still in my ashtray, her hair still in my brush, her clothes still in my car, her voice still in my ears, so soon after we'd been looking at ourselves together in my mirror and she the more lithe, the more fluidly beautiful of the two

Protector was one face of their power, but destroyer was still the other face. And neither one put your fate in their hands. They protected what was theirs, to protect or destroy and sometimes the plot was about his grief that he'd failed to protect or his revenge against other men and sometimes he'd destroyed her himself. And the story was still about him.

She was dead even before she was a corpse.

Nobody gets over anything; time doesn't heal any wounds; if he stopped loving her today, as one of George Jones's most famous songs has it, it's because he's dead.

at that picture, you would think that no one died. You would think we were happy all the time: my mother, my baby, and

Time, I saw, was the fault of the universe, and because of it grief and expectation, equally mischievous, would prevent us having peace to watch the present.

But our grief was useless. Salt water, spilled on the ground, does not feed what grows there, but kills it.

Being shut down from our grief and rage deprives us of living our emotional and creative power. The practice of Swamping gives us that power back. We admit and embody the rupture. We roll around on the floor, rend our garments, throw our bodies into it. We experience and savor the full range of our feelings. If we want to live healthy lives as women, we need the space to grieve our asses off as often as we feel moved. Swamping gives us that opportunity.

He knows that when she passes, a grief will rip through him unlike anything he has ever known. Preparing for it doesn't help. He just knows it will come. It is like realizing you are sailing a boat across an ocean and soon you will find the other shore- it will be just you and acres of dry, blinding white sand. There may be trees on that island, and sun, and food, but none of it will feel or taste right, because you will stand there and realize: I am alone.

No one ever told you what to do when love went away. It was always about capturing love, and keeping love. Not about watching it walk out the door to die alone rather than in your arms.

No worries about money, success, fear, joy, pain, sorrow, sex, or love. Absolute zero. No father, mother, girlfriend, lover. The dead are orphans. No company but the silence like a moth's wings. - Garraty's thoughts on death and dying, The Long walk

The dead are orphans. No company but the silence like a moth's wing.

I am the father that killed his son, the fine green branch; there is no hand or shelter to help me. I am a raven that has no home; I am a boat going from wave to wave; I am a ship that has lost its rudder; I am the apple left on the tree; it is little I thought of falling from it; grief and sorrow will be with me from this time.

I'm falling for you, but I can't do this if your still hung up on a dead guy...you can still love him and love me, but you won't let yourself, Becca.