Quotes About Grief

I thought suddenly, what is the meaning of all these things? All these bags and bags I've been packing? We could take everything we have with us. We could take every single thing that every single person in the world has ever had. But not of it would mean anything to me. Because no matter how much I took and no no matter how much I had for the rest of my life, I didn't have him anymore. I could have piled everything from here straight to heaven. None of it was him.

I learned something about grief. When someone dies, it doesn't leave a hole, and that's the agony.

Con el pésame más profundo y las bendiciones de Dios por la pérdida de alguien tan querido

I took his razor from the shower floor, bits of his black hair still caked between the blades. I took his toothbrush from the sink counter and sucked on the bristles, trying to find the taste of him, but there was only the flavor of watery mint toothpaste....I pulled the sheets off the bed with the idea that I could gather up the imprint of him and save it. I thought, I can unfurl the sheets on our old bed at home. I can lie in the creases formed by his body. I can sleep with him again.

My father had been buried for a month when my mother came back to claim me. She returned as somebody even I didn't recognize—a spirit barely alive imprisoned in her body, a husk. When we returned home, I mourned as much for the loss of my mother as I did for my father. Even then her shoulders had started to slump in surrender. Her skin had begun to wrinkle.

But it was long before then that I realized that my mother was no longer there. That she had died with my father. I was a little girl being raised by spirits. In

I knew my sister was dead. I felt it in my body, as if my bones could tell me the truth.

mum always ought to be, getting tea. Women and food: how they locked on to your heart, taking it so young that if you had ever been properly loved and nurtured, you could never quite untangle them again. And did you ever, ever get over losing your mum? It seemed absurd after so long, and at his age, to be seized with such a yearning to go home; but she was gone, beyond reach, and a grown man wasn't allowed to feel like this. The

Maybe it's kinder not to remember, because you don't have to grieve.

Da quando sono qui da sola, ho la sensazione di passeggiare tenendo i miei morti per mano. Facciamo un giro, mi confortano e mi hanno paura allo stesso tempo. Mi raccontano la stessa storia, tutti i giorni.

You still miss her?" "Yes, I still miss her frightfully. It's two years since she died, but I haven't got used to doing without her. I still keep on wanting to tell her things." "I know the feeling," said Louise. "I miss Mummy like that. It comes and goes. Sometimes I forget about it—and then the tide rises and I'm almost drowned. It happens quite suddenly—I never know when it's going to happen.

Death is not the saddest way to lose somebody you love.

War is horrible," I said, trying to damp her down. "If you had lived through the war you wouldn't think it glorious. War is just agony. It's living under a dark cloud all the time and wondering if someone you love has been killed.

Arnold was very clever," she said at last. "He saw how unsettled the world was—everything slipping downhill. He was sure there was going to be another war. Sometimes I almost feel glad he didn't live to see it. He said things were going from bad to worse and he was quite right, of course . . . but it doesn't help to be miserable; it doesn't make things right to keep on grieving over them. It clouds the sun, that's all.

was a good mother to her three children, but there was no vitality in her. She died — if not of a broken heart, of a bruised one — when her youngest child, a daughter, was eight years old.

People who have suffered a great deal of unhappiness through death or loneliness are often beset by the fear of losing their dear ones.

As she went about her tasks — writing letters, answering telephone calls and putting the house in order — Nell reflected that the war had killed her father just as surely as if he had been shot through the heart by a German bullet. It seemed odd that he, who had stayed at home in peaceful Amberwell, should be the first casualty in the Ayrton family.

I was 9 years old when my father - a strong, vibrant man in his early 40s - died of a heart attack. He was such a central figure in our lives that losing him was a terrible shock to all of us, my mother in particular.

I'm not great at dealing with death, I have to say. I find death very hard: my mum, my dad, Sid Vicious. I'm not a monster; I feel it and it scares me. One death at a time, please, is all my heart will bear.

I am deeply saddened to hear that the man who murdered my brother, Michael Ensley, has been charged with murder again. I grieve for every family who has been victimized by this heinous individual. My prayers and love go out to the family of Demetra Doyle Heard during this trying time.

One might expect that the families of murder victims would be showered with sympathy and support, embraced by their communities. But in reality they are far more likely to feel isolated, fearful, and ashamed, overwhelmed by grief and guilt, angry at the criminal-justice system, and shunned by their old friends.

My focus on 9/11 was on the victims - in the towers, in the planes - and all that loss.

It works both ways: there are victims of tragedy who come to me who have experienced grief of such magnitude that they cannot reconcile. Likewise, I cannot change the mentality of those who committed the crimes or the fools who followed them.

We know the Victorian way of dealing with death, which was not dealing with it. You'll never get over it but having the support of a counsellor who has been there hundreds of times is so important, to help you develop strategies to cope.