Quotes About Grief

If you talk to any cop, however hardened, and say, "Has anything that's ever bothered you", they'll tell you about the death of a child that they had to deal with.

I don't mind about the dead ones. They're dead. The worst of it is, they cling to the living and won't let go.

Death itself is too big to take in, she already sees that; the loss comes at you instead in an infinite number of small installments that can never be paid off.

Death laid its eggs in the wound

For the living, death is thievery.

I took about a year to fully adjust. Like there's a death at the family or a divorce, you don't just snap your fingers and it's over.

He is not dead, this friend; not dead, Gone some few, trifling steps ahead, And nearer to the end; So that you, too, once past the bend, Shall meet again, as face to face, this friend You fancy dead.

When people and animals die, they stay with us in our minds.

Stephen King, Pet Sematary

The dead leave their shadows, an echo of the space within which once they lived. They haunt us, never fading or growing older as we do. The loss we grieve is not just their futures but our own.

Sam and Caine were left standing side by side, bruised and battered, to stare over Penny's sickening corpse, at the face of their mother.

He mourns the dead who lives as they desire.

Part of elegy is confrontation - not just with the idea of death, but with the person who has died.

Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.

You get angry - death does that.

That's all that death is ... Just a going away into another country ... Only the separation is harder to bear because there can be no letters to bridge the silence.

How do you have one eyes?" asked Rosa, gently rocking him to and fro. "Por qué?" "La guerra," he moaned. "It cry, glasseye?" "I told you, it wasn't cheap.

There are a hundred different ways to hold someone's hand. There are the ways you hold a child's hand, the ways you hold a friend's hand, the ways you hold an elderly parent's hand, the ways you hold the hands of the departing and of the dying and of the dead.

When Heshie was killed in the war, the only thing people could think to say to my Aunt Clara and my Uncle Hymie, to somehow mitigate the horror, to somehow console them in their grief, was, "At least he didn't leave you with a shikse wife. At least he didn't leave you with goyische children." End of Heshie and his story.

It is from his mother that Mr. Sabbath inherited his own ability never to get over anything.

A phone at a cemetery would be ringing off the hook. If you could get them on the phone . .

Now, thanks to you, my beloved little darling, being dead is as awful as being alive was.

Por outro lado, é justamente o que há de normal nos funerais o que os torna mais dolorosos, mais um registro da realidade da morte que avassala tudo.

by embracing grief and standing beside the hurting person, we can indeed aid another's search for meaning.