Quotes About Grief

But people get over grief. They get over even the most serious grief in a matter of years. If not get over then at least live beside. And the way they do this is by investing in other people, through friendship, through family, through teaching, through love.

It wasn't just the loss of people I had known but also the loss of myself. The loss of who I had been when I had been with them.

I slipped into a state beyond my usual grief and restlessness and anxiety and despair – one of not feeling anything at all. And when I felt nothing I almost became nostalgic for the grief; at least when you felt pain you knew you were still alive.

The hardest bit about losing people you loved wasn`t thinking about the memories you had, the ones that had already been made. No. The hardest bit was the stuff that should have been, but had now been denied.

Grief is terror, in its most undiluted form.

Will my life be miraculously free from pain, despair, grief, heartbreak, hardship, loneliness, depression? No. But di I want to love? Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.

For centuries I have thought all my despair is grief. But people get over grief. They get over even the most serious grief in a matter of years. If not get over then at least live beside. And the way they do this is by investing in other people, through friendship, through family, through teaching, through love.

For centuries I have thought all my despair is grief. But people get over grief. They get over even the most serious grief in a matter of years. If not get over then at least live beside. And the way they do this is by investing in other people, through friendship, through family, through teaching, through love. I have been approaching this realisation for some time now.

When you die the last thing you want is for your death to leak out and infect those left behind, for those loved ones to become a kind of living dead. And yet, inevitably, that often happens.

My mum died on different dates in different lives. I'd like a life where she is still here. Does that life exist?' Mrs Elm's attention switched to Nora. 'Maybe it does.' 'Great.' 'But you can't get there.' 'Why not?' 'Because this library is about your decisions. There was no choice you could have made that led to her being alive beyond yesterday. I'm sorry.

Where was that love before? Where did you acquire it from? The way it is suddenly there, total and complete, as sudden as grief, but in reverse, is one of the wonders about being human.

I miss you,' she said into the air, as if the spirits of every person she'd loved were in the room with her.

I miss you,' she said into the air, as if the spirits of every person she'd loved were in the room with her.

I miss you", she said into the air, as if the spirits of every person she'd loved were in the room with her.

When you die, the last thing you want is for your death to leak out and infect those left behind, for those loved ones to become a kind of living dead. And yet, inevitably, that often happens. It has happened to me. But I sense it is getting closer. Life. I sense it, just inches ahead of me.

Yesterday I knew I had no future, and that it was impossible for me to accept my life as it is now. And yet today, that same messy life seems full of hope. Potential. The impossible, I suppose, happens via living. Will my life be miraculously free from pain, despair, grief, heartbreak, hardship, loneliness, depression? No. But do I want to live? Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.

When you die the last thing you want is for your death to leak out and infect those left behind, for those loved ones to become a kind of living dead. And yet, inevitably, that often happens. It has happened to me.

April, she had died. April could still be a very cold month in Ithaca, though it was certainly not the best month for dying of exposure. A depressed person would have a better bet walking along the edge of one of the gorges and "accidentally" falling in. Of course the man Jessop had done neither; hand-making his daughter's tombstone had probably kept him too occupied to even consider suicide. Yes. That was it; that was the key. An act of creation in the face of loss.

Yes, thou art gone! and round me too the nightIn ever-nearing circle weaves her shade.

Vain is the effort to forget. Some day I shall be cold, I know, As is the eternal moonlit snow Of the high Alps, to which I go-- But ah, not yet, not yet! Vain is the agony of grief. 'Tis true, indeed, an iron knot Ties straitly up from mine thy lot, And were it snapt--thou lov'st me not! But is despair relief?

Who we thought we were dies when a beloved dies. And it takes a while for a new self to rise, often haltingly, from the ashes of our ravaged hearts.

The loser is here supposed to be a woman, who will more passionately grieve for her loss, and rejoice in finding what she had lost, than perhaps a man would do, and therefore it the better serves the purpose of the parable. She

When death comes into a family it ought to be improved.

Dad jokes. You hate them when you hear them every day, but trust me, you sure do miss 'em when he's gone.