Quotes About Grief

I lost my father when I was barely 10.

One moment I can be happy and laughing, but then it comes over me. It's my mom.

It's very hard to be happy when you've lost.

I can't bear it that Douglas isn't still here.

I can't bear to think of life without Janice. I want to go first because I don't want to miss her, because that would be a pain far worse than any death.

Death belongs to the dying and those who love them.

My beloved father passed away just two months after I told him I was going to start a company. Whenever I make progress in my career, I wish I could share the news with my father.

is a sharp hurt I feel every single day. It's really hard. Some days are better than others, but it's going to be hard every day for the rest of my life.

weeping...betraying a sense of loss so huge and irreparable that the mind balks at taking its measure.

I don't know that you ever get over this kind of loss. The fact that Chris is gone is a sharp hurt I feel every single day. It's really hard. Some days are better than others, but it's going to be hard every day for the rest of my life.

Most of us were simply wrapped too tightly in the grip of summit fever to engage in thoughtful reflection about the death of someone in our midst.

As she studies the pictures, she breaks down from time to time, weeping as only a mother who has outlived a child can weep, betraying a sense of loss so huge and irreparable that the mind balks at taking its measure.

It's not that I normally avoid thinking about my Mom. I think about her every day, of course, and feel how much I miss her. But I always make sure not to wade in above my chest.

He says when your grandmother died your mother cried solidly for a week, solidly. She was crying with relief he says, it was like as if a door had been unlocked and she'd been let outside, she said to me I'm safe now. He waits, and he says this kid, when it's born, you mustn't ever let it think it's anything other than a gift and a blessing, do you hear me?

So, yeah, the psychopath might cry when his dog dies and you think that's misplaced because he doesn't cry when his daughter dies." I

And then there were terrible things, like Alex's assertion that the Sandy Hook massacre of 20 children was "completely fake … they clearly used actors." Inspired by claims like this, Sandy Hook "truthers" had begun bombarding the parents of the murdered children with messages like: "You're a fraud and an asshole. Rot in hell you fucking prick." (That one had been sent to Lenny Pozner, whose 6-year-old son, Noah, died in the shooting.)

Not only do you lose a person to death, but you lose their noise too—their noise and smells, gestures and facial expressions. You lose the way they talk and phrase things and laugh, the way they fill in your blanks without ever thinking about it or having to try. You lose things you love about them they don't even know they possess.

Everything will haunt you, all the storms will find you, everything will remind you she's gone.

My heart floated dead and cold in my chest.

For many weeks after [my wife] died, I could not get used to the feeling of coldness and lifelessness on her side of the bed - and it was even worse when they took the body away and buried her.

I said it was OK, I said I loved her, I said not to worry about me. Her breathing became slower and more labored, and then just past noon, it stopped altogether. I laid my cheek on her chest and held her for a long time, not thinking anything, just being an animal that had lost its mother.

There seemed to be almost nothing left of Lalitha; she was breaking up on him the way dead songbirds did in the wild-they were impossibly light to begin with, and as soon as their little hearts stopped beating they were barely more than bits of fluff and hollow bone, easily scatterd in the wind-but this only made him more determined to hold onto what little of her he still had.

A four-year-old says, "My mommy lives in heaven. Her eyelashes go down instead of up because she is Ã¢â'¬Â¦ in heaven, but I miss her." She feels consoled that her mother "is with God," who, she says, "has pink whiskers, red hair, and two feet.… I did not want her to die until I died. I think I am going to die too in a little while.

Mother died when he was twelve. He did not want sympathy, he only wanted her back.