Quotes About Grief

Some people were crying because they could not find their loved ones.

The days after that, I felt so many different things, sad, angry. Guilty, but for the mostly just numb, like part of me was dead.

It's hard when you lose someone. I've had it happen. It changes your world, everything, but it doesn't change who you are. People who are heroes are still heroes. They may get more heroic. People who are the opposite—well, watch out.

When he left us, he stole all the words.

I need to confront my loss, not run away from it. I wanted to wade in with my eyes open and all my senses alert. I wanted to register everything, from the giant waves of sorrow to the inkiest ripples of remorse. I didn't want to miss any of it.

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal; love leaves a memory no one can steal.

From across her husband's open grave I had thought she exuded a certain foxy mystique, but now, to my disappointment, she looked just like every other mother I knew.

Christmases after his death were usually as unpredictable as they were untenable. It depended on how early in the day—or the evening before—her mother decided to start the festivities and who the guests would be—Jim Beam, José Cuervo or Jack Daniel. If the year had been especially successful, Johnnie Walker might replace all the others.

There was an old saying among K9 groups. Grief belongs to the families. Dread belongs to the handlers.

This is grief. You feel ripped in half. Half of you wanting to retreat, to disappear, to find a place where no one asks questions. And then there's the part of you that wants to remember, has to remember because if you don't, not only will the day cease to exist but so will the reality of that moment.

We are what We have lost

We are what We have lost ? Alex Kuo

Having uttered that piercing cry of grief, Jesus left the temple, never, so far as we know, to return. His last words to the people of Jerusalem were: "Behold, your house is left unto you desolate. For I say unto you, Ye shall not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord.

Why is it so loud when you cry from grief? Because it must be loud enough for the missing one to hear, though it never can be. Loud enough to scale the sky and the backs of angels, or to fall through the earth to where they rest. And so it is sometimes when I sing that the notes come from me as if I believed I could reach them where they rest, they sure of a reunion I still cannot imagine or believe in except, sometimes, in song.

if we suffer a loss of love as young children, the grief may still be in us. Children cannot properly mourn such losses because they cannot conceive of a replacement. Such a loss could be caused by the death of a parent, by loss of contact with one parent through divorce, or by parental rejection.

Such a loss is devastating to a young child unless there is a replacement.

The child can only react by denying the loss and living in the fantasy that the parent will return with love.

Oh, when we are journeying through the murky night and the dark woods of affliction and sorrow, it is something to find here and there a spray broken, or a leafy stem bent down with the tread of His foot and the brush of His hand as He passed; and to remember that the path He trod He has hallowed, and thus to find lingering fragrance and hidden strength in the remembrance of Him as " in all points tempted like as we are," bearing grief for us, bearing grief with us, bearing grief like us.

I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.

I have outlasted all desire, My dreams and I have grown apart; My grief alone is left entire, The gleamings of an empty heart. The storms of ruthless dispensation Have struck my flowery garland numb, I live in lonely desolation And wonder when my end will come. Thus on a naked tree-limb, blasted By tardy winter's whistling chill, A single leaf which has outlasted Its season will be trembling still.

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

And like a soprano shattering glass, Juliet heard something snap deep inside. It was the sound of her heart breaking.

It's true what they say: life does go on and joy does return, and often it's in the most unexpected of places,' she continues, 'but you never get over losing someone; you just get better at coping with it.

One thing I've learned through this bloody awful time is that grief isn't linear. You can be doing all right, then it will suddenly come out of nowhere. It's the silly little things that remind you .