Quotes About Grief

So, I guess people figure it's not as hard to lose your mother when you never got along anyway. But they're wrong. They're dead wrong. It's always hard to lose your mother. Always. If you loved her, if you hated her. If she smothered you, if she ignored you. It doesn't matter. She's your mother. Your mother. That's just a very tough bond to break.

Maybe when you put tears away uncried, everything you cry about from that day on contains a little of those tears.

we are bound by a common love, a stronger bond now, as it extends to a common loss.

They can't just be in that moment of grief with you. They can't just say, 'Yeah, this is some pretty awful stuff.' They have to try to fix it. They have to solve it for you in a couple of sentences, which is ridiculous, because it never solves anything.

This is one of the advantages of dying young. Everybody you left behind will need your help

guess in a lot of ways I've partially gotten over the traumatic event of her passing. But what you don't realize, until you have to live it, is that it's the absence of the person that's the trouble. The ongoing absence. And when you're missing someone, a longer time without them doesn't solve the problem. The longer you don't see someone, the more you miss them.

Because it seems we get over everything, given enough time. And I guess in a lot of ways I've partially gotten over the traumatic event of her passing. But what you don't realize, until you have to live it, is that it's the absence of the person that's the trouble. The ongoing absence. And when you're missing someone, a longer time without them doesn't solve the problem. The longer you don't see someone, the more you miss them.

When you've only ever had one child, and she's gone, are you still a mother? Maybe. But I don't even know.

The grief made the simplest movements of life feel like more than he could bear, and he had no idea how long he would have to live this way.

I made him my whole world. And so my world was always too small. Then when he died, I didn't know what my world was anymore. I wasn't even sure I had one.

he'd be proud of me for crying, and I cry harder. How do you stop crying, Simon?

I have trouble with people like that. Like that woman who was just here. They come up to you in a time of grief, and they can't seem to accept that it's grief. They can't just be in that moment of grief with you. They can't just say, 'Yeah, this is some pretty awful stuff.' They have to try to fix it. They have to solve it for you in a couple of sentences, which is ridiculous,

But they suggest something to get you out of what you're feeling, or they find some reason why it's all for the best. I don't understand why people can't just join you in your grief for a moment.

But there was no way to slice it that did not feel like a loss. He would simply have to file it away with all the other things—both small and large—that should not have been asking too much from life, but which life had taken from him all the same.

That gold star in the window. The symbol for a lost son. It broke you down.

I do not tolerate a world emptied of you. I have tried. For a year I have called every black tree Marya Morevna; I have looked for your face in the patterns of the ice. In the dark, I have pored over the loss of you like pale gold.

I will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories. A war story is a black space. On the one side is before and on the other side is after, and what is inside belongs only to the dead.

Readers will always insist on adventures, and though you can have grief without adventures, you cannot have adventures without grief.

You will live as you live anywhere. With difficulty, and grief. Yes, you are dead. And I and my family and everyone, always, forever. All dead, like stones. But what does it matter? You still have to go to work in the morning. You still have to live.

Do you know, Masha, how revelation comes? Like death. So sudden, though you knew all along it must occur. A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.

When you've lost your girl, it doesn't much matter where you live. Everywhere is just The Place She Isn't, and that's the front and back of it.

I cannot help that readers will always insist on adventures, and though you can have grief without adventures, you cannot have adventures without grief.

Very well, but I have tried to be a generous narrator and care for my girl as best I can. I cannot help that readers will always insist on adventures, and though you can have grief without adventures, you cannot have adventures without grief.

The burnt-off connectors and shadows where Ravan once filled my spaces— those, I think, are the sensations of grief.