Quotes About Grief

As long as I remembered them, then they were still here.

There is no grief amount wolves. Nature has a wonderful way of making you face reality. You can sit and weep if you want, but you are likely to be killed while you're still in your mourning, because you let your guard down.

My father died last year," Thomas said. "I still look for him in crowds.

That's the paradox of loss: How can something that's gone weigh us down so much?

It's the question mark that comes with death that we can't face, not the period.

Death is scary and confusing and painful, and facing it alone shouldn't be the norm.

What I think is that there is no perspective in grief, or in love. How can there be, when one person becomes the center of the universe - either because he has been lost or because he has been found?

I don't know what it is about death that makes it so hard. I suppose it's the one-sided communication; the fact that we never get to ask our loved one if she suffered, if she is happy wherever she is now... if she is somewhere. It's the question mark that comes with death that we can't face, not the period.

I think my heart can't possibly hurt any more than it already does.

you eventually make the decision to divide your life in half—before and after—with loss being that tight bubble in the middle. You can move around in spite of it; you can laugh and smile and carry on with your life, but all it takes is one slow range of motion, a doubling over, to be fully aware of the empty space at your center.

Do we grieve because the person we lost was such a light in the world? Or do we grieve because of who he was to us?

LOSE someone you love, there is a tear in the fabric of the universe. It's the scar you feel for, the flaw you can't stop seeing. It's the tender place that won't bear weight. It's a void.

They go on to this better place, you know, which is what they wanted all along. But you and me, we're still left behind with all the questions they couldn't answer.

Let me tell you what happens when you cook down the syrup of loss over the open fire of sorrow: It solidifies into something else. Not grief, like you'd expect, or even regret. No, it gets thick as paste, black as ash; yet it isn't until you dip a finger in and feel that sharp taste dissolving on your tongue that you realize this is anger in its purest form, unrefined; a substance to be weighed and measured and spread.

don't know what it is about death that makes it so hard. I suppose it's the one-sided communication; the fact that we never get to ask our loved one if she suffered, if she is happy wherever she is now… if she is somewhere.

The thing about death, Lacy knew, was that it robbed you of your vocabulary for comfort.

This time I don't bother with words; the ones we need don't exist in the English language. Even the syllable grief feels like a cliff, and we've fallen.

Grief, it turns out, is a lot like a one-sided video conversation on an iPad. It's the call with no response, the echo of affection, the shadow cast by love. But just because you can't see it anymore doesn't make it any less real.

I think grief is like a really ugly couch. It never goes away. You can decorate around it; you can slap a doily on top of it; you can push it to the corner of the room—but eventually, you learn to live with it." Somehow

As it turns out, you can love someone too much. Then, when they leave, your heart goes missing. And no one can survive that great a loss.

No matter what we survivors like to tell ourselves about the afterlife, when someone dies, everything is over.

She wondered if grief could make time run faster, like a glitch in a clock.

What no one told me about grief is how lonely it is. No matter who else is mourning, you're in your own little cell. Even when people try to comfort you, you're aware that now there is a barrier between you and them, made of the horrible thing that happened, that keeps you isolated.

death had become part of the landscape.