Quotes About Grief

She thanked them for their letters, promised that they would be archived at the Kennedy Library, and said all the usual niceties one might expect a widow in her position to say. Then she caught viewers off guard with an emotional and revealing statement. In the middle of her remarks, she paused and said: "All his bright light gone from the world.

Both Davis and Lincoln loved books and reading. Both had children who died young. One of Davis's sons, Samuel, died when he was still a baby, and another, Joseph, died after an accident while Davis was the president of the Confederacy. Lincoln, too, lost one son, Eddie, at a very young age and another, Willie, his favorite, while he was president of the United States.

My experience has been that grief and loss do not necessarily become more acceptable with time, and commitment to them is of no value to either the living or the dead.

Certain kinds of loss are forever. Not many people understand that.

These thoughts robbed the light from my eyes

When death stole the love of your life, no amount of revenge ever healed the hole in your heart. You lived with anger and physical yearnings that were insatiable, and you went about dismantling yourself on a daily basis, tendon and joint, for the rest of your days, all the time wearing the mask of a court jester.

How do you live with it, family and friends ask. The answer is I don't. When you lose your kid, the best you can hope for is a scar rather than an open wound. I feel I'm in a house of mirrors, and I want to break every one of them.

You treat loss just like death. It visits everyone and you don't let it prevail in your life.

I will not accept my daughter's death. I will find a way to pull her back through the veil or untether myself and lie down in the bottom of a boat that has no oars and float down the Columbia and into the Pacific, where she will be waiting for me somewhere beyond the sun.

Sarah: Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever...

The weird, weird thing about devastating loss is that life actually goes on. When you're faced with a tragedy, a loss so huge that you have no idea how you can live through it, somehow, the world keeps turning, the seconds keep ticking.

Tears were dripping onto my dress, but I wasn't making any sound. There was no sound to express thid kind of pain. I didn't want to move, didn't want to do anything. Fang was not waiting for me out in the living room. Tomorrow morning, when I woke up, Fang would still be gone.

Everything I loved was taken away from me, and I did not die.

There are some feelings, and actions, for which words are utterly useless.

They were my parents. Dead. They died in their bed under freakish circumstances three months ago, leaving my brothers and me devastated and bankrupt.

You have got to decide: either you die with Stuart or you go on living your life," John tells Astrid. "Be honest and decide. You can't just cry all the time, you've got to get on."16

Here's the best I've come up with about recovering from the death of somebody we love. It goes like this. When we're little, maybe one or so, we learn how to walk. Somehow we figure out how to get up on our two feet and take a scary step forward. Maybe we fall down. But we get up again. We take another step. We move forward. We move on. We just don't forget.

Here's the best I've come up with about recovering from the death of somebody we love. It goes like this. When we were little, maybe one or so, we learn how to walk. Somehow we figure out how to get up on our 2 two feet and take a scary step forward. Maybe we fall down. But we get up again. We take another step. We move forward. We move on. We just don't forget.

He got sick with meningitis when the boys were just three, and we lost him.

Nothing. My heart sank down into my stomach.

The look on Matthew Leroux's face when I left was terrible to behold. Having lost my own wife, Maeve, to cancer, I actually knew how it felt to helplessly watch a person you deeply love hover between life and death. How the inconsolable pain of it buries you to the point where the thought of your own death is actually a hope and a comfort.

I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, eyes— I wonder if It weighs like Mine— Or has an Easier size. —EMILY DICKINSON

She'd given me Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's famous book On Death and Dying. It described the stages in the death process: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

My father left when I was four and Georgia was two. That was about a year after Leo died. Once he was gone, we never heard from him again. End of story.