Quotes About Grief

mistrust elicits rage, deprivation can foster a deep sadness.

The bouncing cricket that was my brother is gone. Now when I look into his eyes, an old man stares back at me.

How we live our lives does not,unfortunately depend on us alone.Circumstances,good or bad,constantly intervene.A person close to us die.A person not so close to us carries on living.All these things affect how we live.

start her gradual return to society. Black gowns gave way to grey, mauve, and lavender, and could now be made from silk instead of crape or bombazine. To alert the members of her circle that she was ready to face society, a widow would leave calling cards at the houses of her acquaintances. She would begin to accept more invitations, always being careful only to attend events that were not too joyful and to behave in ways respectful of the memory of her husband

Once she entered the period of half-mourning, the widow would

I wanted to cry, but the tears did not come.

was empty, what had happened to the family's

I couldn't understand death. I didn't know what it was. The only way I was able to measure it was by the fact I couldn't hear my grandfather's laugh anymore.

Maybe over time I'll forget the feel and smell and sound of him, the same way I am starting to forget Mom, but I'll never be able to forget that he should've been here.

I knew by then that I would never have my mother back, not in the way I had known her all my life. When you have seen your mother shattered, there's no putting her back together. There will always be seams, chipped edges, and clumps of dried glue. Even if you could get her to where she looks the same, she will never be stronger than a cracked plate.

The bitter scratch of his unshaven good-night kiss will always, for me, be the sensation of grief.

I mourned as though I had miscarried. My body apparently was fertile soil, but my life was not.

FOR NORMAL PEOPLE, TALKING ABOUT THE LOST WOULD PUT OUT THE FIRE, BUT FOR ME IT WAS LIKE KEROSENE, GASOLINE AND A BLAST OF PURE OXYGEN

what loss has taught me of love. Our house isn't simply empty, our home has been emptied.

But this is what loss has taught me of love. Our house isn't simply empty, our home has been emptied. Love makes a place in your life, it makes a place for itself in your bed. Invisibly, it makes a place in your body, rerouting all your blood vessels, throbbing right alongside your heart. When it's gone, nothing is whole again.

I kissed her finger near the base, where my ring once rested. "Georgia," I said, beginning a sentence I couldn't bear to complete. "I tried," she began. "Shhh . . . Just sleep, Georgia. Just sleep." But neither of us closed our eyes against the immeasurable dark of that silent night.

After a few miles, the hearse led the small processional down a bumpy, unpaved road. The jostling unlocked something in Roy Senior, who said, "I love Olive in ways

like infernal fire, grief burns but does not consume; instead, it makes the heart vulnerable to further suffering.

infernal fire, grief burns but does not consume; instead, it makes the heart vulnerable to further suffering.

In public Neil was able to mask his grief as adults are expected to, but in the privacy of his apartment, the floodgates of emotion burst open.

for like infernal fire, grief burns but does not consume; instead, it makes the heart vulnerable to further suffering.

I didn't sob, I didn't wail, I didn't whimper... because those are all things that dead people cannot do.

Then, having had a good cry about my being gone, he'd collect himself and get on with his life, proceeding south into the village, with head and tail erect.

Try that yourself sometime: Take something (or someone) you love, and -in your imagination- say goodbye forever right now. Grieve for a moment. Then feel the explosion of happiness that comes when you remind yourself you don't have to say goobye. At least, not yet.