Quotes About Grief

Amy Weitz had said that the dead seem to hang around for a while, as if to guide and comfort us, and then slowly disappear into an unapproachable distance. How did we let them go?

Nor did the word closure that a few of the mourners said they hoped to achieve. Edward believed that they thought of it as a door closing softly on their grief, but he was afraid it might shut out more than they'd bargained for, memories of love and pleasure as well as of loss.

Bury the pain of losing your loved ones... into the arms of your friends.

Grief loves the hollow; all it wants is to hear its own echo.

My father is both dead and alive. I do not have a grammar for him. He is in the past, present and future. Even if I had held his hand, and felt it slacken, as he exhaled his last breath, I would still, I believe, every time I refer to him, pause to search for the right tense. I suspect many men who have buried their fathers feel the same. I am no different. I live, as we all live, in the aftermath.

There are times when my father's absence is as heavy as a child sitting on my chest.

Though I grieve, there is no help;Vainly I long to see her.Men tell me that my wife isIn the mountains of Hagai—Thither I go,Toiling along the stony path;But it avails me not,For of my wife, as she lived in this world,I find not the faintest shadow.

Kaye: You know what the sun looks like? Janet: No, What? Kaye: Like he slit his wrists in a bathtub and the blood is all over the water. Janet: That's gross, Kaye. Kaye: And the moon is just watching. She's just watching him die. She must have driven him to it.

The only way to end grief was to go through it.

I haven't had a very good day. I think I might still be hung over and everyone's dead and my root beer's gone.

I know how to be the witness to her grief. I don't know how to be this kind of villain.

As he bent closer, he realized they were words -- words his wife had carved into the cave ice with the last of her dying strength. As he read them, he felt them like three hard blows in the stomach. KILL THE CHILD

I miss him, and the pain of it is a yawning chasm, one into which I yearn to let myself fall.

I'm sorry,' she said to each of the dead as she unzipped and unfastened their things, 'I'm sorry Courtney. I'm sorry Marcus. I'm sorry Rachel. I'm sorry Jon. I'm sorry I'm alive and you're dead. I'm sorry I was asleep. I'm sorry I didn't save you and now I'm taking your things. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Sometimes I go down and stare at it, trying to see my parents in the tide lines of dried blood. I want to feel something, something besides a vague queasiness. I want to feel more, but every time I look at it, I feel less.

There are no words for how much I will miss her, but I try to kiss her so that she'll know. I try to kiss her to tell her the whole story of my love, the way I dreamed of her when she was dead, the way that every other girl seemed like a mirror that showed me her face. The way my skin ached for her. The way that kissing her made me feel like I was drowning and like I was being saved all at the same time. I hope she can taste all that, bittersweet, on my tongue.

Ben was taking her through the storm of grief. He was singing her through the rage and despair. He was singing her through the terrible loneliness, because there was no way to shut off grief, no way to cast it aside or fight against it. The only way to end grief was to go through it. As she realized that, his song began to change. It grew softer, sweeter, like the morning after a long cry, when your head still hurt but your heart was no longer broken.

What I want is him back, him standing beside me, him laughing at all this. I would settle for even his worst self, his cruellest trickster self, if only he could be here.

By the time dad died, the junk was so piled up that there were tunnels instead of rooms.

loss sings to loss

I am hungry. I realize, but I feel too sick to eat. Is this what it is to be brokenhearted? I am not sure it is Locke I am sick over, so much as the world the way it was before the coronation began. But if I could undo the passing of the days, why not unwind them to before I killed Valerian, why not unwind them until my parents are alive, why not unwind them all the way to the beginning?

We're not going to be fine, Tana. We're never going to be fine ever again.

My heart is buried with you in the strange soil of the mortal world.

loved him and he's dead and gone and bones. I loved him and they took him away from me. Where is he? Where is he? Dead and gone and