Quotes About Grief

And, in a funny way, each death is different and you mourn each death differently and each death brings back the death you mourned earlier and you get into a bit of a pile-up.

The grief is not over, it will never be over. It still trips me up in unexpected moments, stumbling me all over again. What does it: a reminisce with Paul, the sight of a mate laughing so easily with their mum, a Klimt painting we both loved. Simple things. Two steps forward, one step back, righting myself and then not. But the moving forward is stronger, swifter now; the seam of melancholy more hidden. Yes, climbing back into the world. Firm.

Mom still looks at my skateboard as if it's a tiny coffin with my name stamped on the rim.

in short, I sensed in myself those strange feelings that come over us when for the first time we enter the dwelling of a widower whom we had known before inseparable from his lifelong companion. These feelings are like seeing before us a man we had always known in good health, now lacking a leg.

Unos días después de su muerte un ujier del departamento se presentó en su casa para ordenarle que se reincorporara inmediatamente a su puesto de trabajo , pues así lo exigía el jefe. Pero no pudo cumplir su misión y a la vuelta declaró que Akaki Akákievich no aparecería más por allí. «¿Por qué?», le preguntaron. «Porque ha muerto —respondió—. Hace cuatro días que lo enterraron.»

decided to take himself away, as if not seeing something spared you from its sorrow.

Perhaps I would not have rushed back to England if only I'd been told how Colleen died. But it was the kind of news, posing the kind of question, that prevented sitting still. The only thing I could bear was being on the move.

as if not seeing something spared you from its sorrow.

When you lose someone, you get used to living day to day without them. But you'll never get used to the 10 second heartbreak." That's the time it takes to wake to full consciousness each day and remember…

What do you know who have no notion of my grief? Away with you, make room! Do not look at me; I am not where you believe me to be. I am lost, even to myself! One does not address people like me! You torture and oppress me. How much longer? Leave me alone in my unhappiness.

Grief. Death was not an intellectual conceit. It was an existential black hole, an animal riddle, both problem and solution, and the grief it inspired could not be fixed or bypassed like a faulty relay, but only endured.

Death was not an intellectual conceit. It was an existential black hole, an animal riddle, both problem and solution, and the grief it inspired could not be fixed or bypassed like a faulty relay, but only endured. And

Death was not an intellectual conceit. It was an existential black hole, an animal riddle, both problem and solution, and the grief it inspired could not be fixed or bypassed like a faulty relay, but only endured.

Death, so permanent for the dead, should be more than just an afternoon activity for the mourners.

Instead, Emerson came to accept that when someone dies, things that belong to you disappear, too.

Adeline, who is the girl that she once was, the bright Victorian girl shut behind dark paneled doors with her thirteen, fifteen, eighteen years of life and a Greek lexicon. She is the girl stopped in time who could not speak or feel at the side of her dead mother's bed. She keeps the cold, clear information of those days, unclouded by revision or the lies of age.

Qué es lo que nos retiene aún aquí? Los amados descansan hace tiempo. En su tumba termina nuestra vida; miedo y dolor invaden nuestra alma. Ya no tenemos nada que buscar –harto está el corazón–, vacío el mundo.

A bugler sounded the Last Post. Heartbreak made audible.

I could not tell you the date of my mother's death. I could not tell you the date of my dad's death. These are not dates that I find significant.

?nsan?n babas? hayatta bir kere ölür.

?yi, iyi; bunlar?n hepsini Hüsamettin Albay?ma söylerim. Mezar ta??ma yazd?ramam ya bu kadar ?eyi. Söyle evlad?m, diye teselli ederdi annem beni.Söyle de içine hicran olmas?n.Hicran oldu anne.

Annem, benim ölümden korktu?umu bilirdi; bunu bildi?i halde gene de ölmü?tü.

Grief was grief, she thought. It was pain and loss and despair—an abrupt end where there should have been a continuing.

She jumps on me for sharing pain with the living, but she tries to share it with the dead.