Quotes About Grief

We walked away from all that was warm and dear and stood frightened in cold rain where the guns fired, and in the end, we died in pain, the black stinking mud our shroud, embraced at last not by living arms, but by the bones of those who before us died …

Of all the things she thought might happen when she came here, this wasn't one. To be shot like this. Tears came into her eyes. She closed them, laid her head down on the grass and in a few moments her tears were the only part of her moving

I just miss him, is all. He used to make me laugh, nothing else did.

Arran's grey-blue eyes opened and they were clear and bright. He smiled at Maxie. 'I love you, Mum,' he said quietly and he died in Maxie's arms.

Are you by yourself, darling? I can't bear the thought of you dying alone. No, mum, I'm with my friend. I'm with Courtney... Courtney... He called out her name. 'Courtney,' he said. 'I'm sorry...' But Courtney was already dead.

it is not news that we live in a world Where beauty is unexplainable And suddenly ruined And has its own routines. We are often far From home in a dark town, and our griefs Are difficult to translate into a language Understood by others.

And, for her father, it seemed as if it were a home-like, comfortable thought to him, that her mother had one of her children with her. He called her the first link of his Daisy Chain drawn up out of sight; and, during the quiet days that ensued, he seemed as it were to be lifted above grief, dwelling upon hope.

Neither Boncer nor Teddy comes out of the house, not even to watch from the veranda. Here, laying the dead to rest, like washing and feeding and birth, is women's work.

Their crime was their existence, Louisa had obliquely understood, and she had heeded Mama's plea that they must not make a noise, taking each blow soundlessly, keeping her tears on the inside, until the lake of her grief had become so wide it had seemed almost inviting, a thing into which she could escape.

Even the most blatant assholes seemed to function in a state of grace when confronted with the brutal loss of a loved one. They moved through the world differently than other people. When they looked at you, you had the feeling that they were really seeing you. Their entire universe was just this one thing, this one event, this one loss. They seemed, for a few weeks, to have things in perspective. Then the inconsequential shit of their lives would start to seep back in.

But of course, Libby didn't grow up. She died in Salmon Bay instead. Supposedly.

Libby was dead. Princess X disappeared. May lost her best friend again, and again, and again.

I'm terribly sad about Farrah's passing. She was incredibly brave, and God will be welcoming her with open arms.

There's nothing more frustrating than being in pain over the loss of a candidate and finding yourself surrounded by people ten years younger who are already married.

My whole life sort of ended when my mom died.

the death of my mother was the thing that made me believe the most deeply in my safety: nothing bad could happen to me, I thought. The worst thing already had.

Small things such as this have saved me: how much I love my mother—even after all these years. How powerfully I carry her within me. My grief is tremendous but my love is bigger. So is yours. You are not grieving your son's death because his death was ugly and unfair. You're grieving it because you loved him truly. The beauty in that is greater than the bitterness of his death.

I had problems a therapist couldn't solve; grief that no man in a room could ameliorate.

There was the woman I was before my mom died and the one I was now, my old life sitting on the surface of me like a bruise.

The obliterated place is equal parts destruction and creation. The obliterated place is pitch black and bright light. It is water and parched earth. It is mud and it is manna. The real work of deep grief is making a home there.

I was twenty-two, the same age she was when she'd been pregnant with me. She was going to leave my life at the same moment that I came into hers, I thought. For some reason that sentence came fully formed into my head just then, temporarily blotting out the Fuck them prayer. I almost howled in agony. I almost choked to death on what I knew before I knew. I was going to live the rest of my life without my mother.

My mother's last word to me clanks inside me like an iron bell that someone beats at dinnertime: love, love, love, love, love.

One of the worst things about losing my mother at the age I did was how very much there was to regret.

I put her burnt bones into my mouth and swallowed them whole.