Quotes About Grief

Nothing can bring my Jordan back but I have learned to channel my grief into action to honor my son.

I'm still mad at Josh Charles for dying on 'The Good Wife.'

And remember, it's also very funny, because side by side with grief lies joy.

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease - of joy that kills.

I work grief and sadness out of my body when I dance, and I bring in joy and rhythm.

People in grief need someone to walk with them without judging them.

I think a lot of people think that my parents' deaths is why I write such sad songs, but that's not true. Those songs may just be the woman I am.

I was born in London but, after my dad passed away, we moved to Kent for a fresh start.

I lost my father when I was four, so maybe that was always in the background. Losing my brother kicked it into overdrive. When you get to such an intense place of suffering, you either have the choice to continue suffering or figure a way not to.

I lost my father. He had diabetes and high BP and so he died of kidney failure.

The death of kings can be recited, but not of one's child.

Until you go through a bereavement, you don't know how you will cope. What we have found out is that life is completely different. The foundations that you have been building all your life are knocked down.

When you lose a child in an accident as I did, it's final - you're not caught in this longing for him, to search for him, knowing he's out there some place.

My mom grew up without a father because he died in the Korean War. And my grandmother, her life was completely upended because of that.

The Kurt thing has burdened me so much.

Newton and Descartes started to try and prove that God existed in the same way as they would try and prove something in the laboratory or with their mathematics And when you try and mix science and religion you get bad science and bad religion. The two are doing two different things. ... Science can give you a diagnosis of cancer. It can even cure your disease, but it cannot touch your grief and disappointment, nor can it help you to die well.

I would have been glad if it had been the Lord's will to let one of my children live.

the howling began as first one starving dog threw back its head, then another and an other until the whole valley was echoing with the raw, wretched grief of them. It was as if every poor beast in the world was screaming out against what they had witnessed that day.

Ancient eyes had stared at me, filled with ancient grief. And something more. Something so alien and unexpected that I'd almost burst into tears. I'd seen many things in his eyes in the time that I'd known him: lust, amusement, sympathy, mockery, caution, fury. But I had never seen this. Hope. Jericho Barrons had hope, and I was the reason for it. I would never forget his smile. It had illuminated him from the inside out.

I wasn't prepared for death. Nobody is. You lose someone you love more than you love yourself, and you get a crash course in mortality. You lie awake night after night, wondering if you really believe in heaven and hell and finding all kinds of reasons to cling to faith, because you can't bear to believe they aren't out there somewhere, a few whispered words of a prayer away.

Those who were so long imprisoned in ice and darkness seem to find the sunlight jarring, painful. The longer I walk around with this grief inside me, the more I understand that. It's as if sunshine is a slap in the face that says, Look, the world's all bright and shiny! Too bad you're not.

Barrons: "He got upset it wouldn't shut up and tore its head off." Mac: "The child?" I gasped

Don't accuse me of being morbid when I'm merely the product of a culture that buries the bones of the ones they love in pretty, manicured flower gardens so they can keep them nearby and go talk to them whenever they feel troubled or depressed. That's morbid. Not to mention bizarre. Dogs bury bones, too.

I can't help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I've become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.