Quotes About Grief

She was always going to be the smartest, kindest, funniest, loyalest person we would ever meet, and the fact of her not being here well it just isn't right

But Dexter blinked hard, shook his head then nudged her hand with his. 'So what I thought we'd do for the next couple of days is, you can show me the sights, and I'll just mope about and make stupid remarks.' She smiled and nudged his hand back. 'It's hardly surprising what you've been through, are going through,' and she covered his hand with her own.

grief is as much about regret for what you've never had as sadness for what you've lost. Anyway, we got through it somehow.

grief is as much about regret for what you've never had as sadness for what you've lost.

grief is as much regret for what we have never had as sorrow for what we have lost. As

grief is as much about regret for what you've never had as sadness for what you've lost.

Yet there seemed to be no easy correlation between the awful grief I felt at her death and our closeness – or lack of it – in life, and it occurred to me that perhaps grief is as much regret for what we have never had as sorrow for what we have lost.

There is no panacea for this kind of loss. Just know that every day it gets the tiniest bit better-- suddenly one day you can put it in a different perspective.

You waited in the same piss for your Pete to show. He didn't so you went inside and cremated your mother. Stood alone at the front and bit the inside of your cheek until the blood wouldn't stop and the tears finally came.

but our self with a small "s" actually enjoys an impoverished life and all the negativity that goes with it: feeling unworthy, being invalidated, judging others and ourselves, being inflated, always "winning" and being "right," grieving the past, fearing the future, nursing our wounds, craving assurance, and seeking love instead of giving it.

The dead forever change the living.

engaging with our grief is a form of self-nurturance and liberation from neediness. Paradoxically, to enter our wounded feelings fully places us on the path to healthy intimacy.

Perhaps we become accustomed to our grief and, as it becomes increasingly familiar, increasingly part of the emotional landscape, it becomes a dullness. But there is no closure, no forgetting. One mourns those one has loved who have died until one joins them. It happens soon enough.

Fairy tales do not deny the existence of . . . sorrow and failure: the possibility of these is necessary to the joy of deliverance; it denies (in the face of much evidence if you will) universal final defeat . . . giving a glimpse of Joy, Joy beyond the walls of the world, poignant as grief. —J. R. R. Tolkien

Thomas Lynch showed me that it is possible to love a child who is lost, possibly forever.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.

When Hercule Poirot died on that late November afternoon in 2012, a part of me died with him.

They show us more often Than not how to die At the same time and in more ways Of doing both, of taking the first Out of the heart of the other And spreading it around…

Zoe wiped it away gently, as a tear dropped from her eye on to his cold pink nose.

Maturity is the ability to live fully and equally in multiple contexts; most especially, the ability, despite our grief and losses, to courageously inhabit the past the present and the future all at once.

Those who will not slip beneath the still surface on the well of grief, turning down through its black water to the place we cannot breathe, will never know the source from which we drink, the secret water, cold and clear, nor find in the darkness glimmering, the small round coins, thrown by those who wished for something else.

The room is still quite cold when the list of achievements is read but the atmosphere quickens when you hear what they loved, what they held in their affections…you realize what you learn you have lost [in someone dying] is you've lose what they loved and everything else is like chafe blown away.

Anyhow, Molly died, in the way that all really good things die, fast and brutal and for no apparent reason.

The casket sat in the front of the church, open to all. I didn't look. Whoever was there wan't Jules. Jules was at the ocean now, being a seagull. Dancing. And free.