Quotes About Grief

The Plenimarans lay scattered in a wide circle. At its center, Seregil and Alec lay side by side, hands clasped between them even in death.

I cannot think of a life without him in it. I cannot bury another son. This time I fear they will have to put me in the ground with him.

The grieving Lindberghs were convinced that the excesses of the press were responsible for their son's abduction and murder. "If it were not for the publicity that surrounds us, we might still have him," Anne bitterly wrote in her diary.

When you've loved somebody for a long time, and then it stops, it's akin to an amputation in that you go on feeling the cut-off part long after it's been taken away. All sorts of nervous and emotional impulses set out to travel to their accustomed stations, and when they come up against the new, raw barrier, they're carried through it by their own impetus, and only then, finding themselves shooting through empty space, do they dwindle and die away.

She'd been prepared for him to say he was too old, she must put away that sweet but impractical idea, they would forget all about it and go back to being good friends. She had almost hoped he would say that; it would forestall the complication and entanglement, yet leave her with a grief to harbor, sad but tender, grief like a secret, soothing companion. But this! There was nothing soothing about this.

God isn't afraid of your sharp edges that may seem quite risky to others. He doesn't pull back. He pulls you close. His love and grace covers your exposed grief. And step-by-step leads you to a new place of victory. A sweet place your soul is so glad to be in though you never would have chosen the hard path on your own.

And the gaping hole left behind is in some ways worse than death. If their absence was caused by death, you would grieve their loss. But when their absence is caused by rejection, you not only grieve their loss but you also have to wrestle through the fact that they wanted this.

All I have to do is stand at the gravesite of my sister who died way too young and in way too much pain to be reminded that none of this is easy or tidy. Some things won't be fixed on this side of eternity; they just have to be walked through.

I always knew death of this relation would be the death of my life.

I always knew death of this relation would beat the death out of my life.

Does having three other children lessen your pain over the one who is lost? Not lessen the pain, no. But it keeps me wanting to draw breath. It keeps me alive. In nurturing and caring for another child you can love the child you lost.

Too many people try to assuage pain that can never be eradicated. All you can do is salute the grief, acknowledge that you carry it, too, and that even though we all travel that path alone, we are not alone in traveling it.

Missing is one of the true tragedies in life," he says. "That ache that nothing soothes. I thought time would soften it. It's supposed to, isn't it? But all these years later, I still long for what I had. What we all had. What is no more.

A tiny creature named Elpis, also known as hope. She stayed in Pandora's jar so that she could revisit us after all our miseries. So that we can hope that the hard times will get better, hope that grief will soften, hope that terrors will quell.

I could see my face, crying, in her blank eye.

When our parents are alive, they stand in front of us, blocking our view of death. But once they've gone, we find ourselves at the cliff edge.

We understand death for the first time when he puts his hand upon one whom we love.

The concerto's beauty was even more impassioned than he remembered, and also more piteous and quiet and restrained, and he clasped his hands together to absorb both the grief and joy in his body.

And suddenly I was in the car with my father. I heard rain splashing up over the tires and my father, humming. He was so alive, so beloved, that the incomprehensibility of his suicide grieved me all over again. By then, my father had been dead for two decades, and such a pure memory of him had never come back to me.

When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him.

Achilles' eyes lift. They are bloodshot and dead. "I wish he had let you all die.

Patroclus, he says, Patroclus. Patroclus. Over and over until it is sound only.

I conjure the boy I knew. Achilles, grinning as the figs blur in his hands. His green eyes laughing into mine. Catch, he says. Achilles, outlined against the sky, hanging from a branch over the river. The thick warmth of his sleepy breath against my ear. If you have to go, I will go with you. My fears forgotten in the golden harbor of his arms. The memories come, and come. She listens, staring into the grain of the stone. We are all there, goddess and mortal and the boy who was both.

It is right to seek peace for the dead. You and I both know there is no peace for those who live after.