Quotes About Family

His father, who for years had refused to speak to Eddie, now lacked the strength to even try. He watched his son with heavy-lidded eyes. Eddie, after struggling to find even one sentence to say, did the only thing he could think of to do: He held up his hands and showed his father his grease-stained fingertips.

Going back to something is harder than you think. I don't suppose I could have broken my mother's heart any more if I tried.

Please make it yesterday, when Papa came home.

A child is both an anchor and a set of wings.

Parents rarely let got of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away.

But I had never seen her that way. I had never known her as Pauline, the name he parents had given her, or as Posey, the name her friends had given her; only as Mom, the name I had given her. I could only see her carrying dinner to the table with kitchen mitts, or carpooling us to the bowling alley.

Sometimes the children asked Eddie to lift them over his head, and when Eddie complied, he saw the mothers' sad smiles: He guessed it was the right lift but the wrong pair of arms.

But every family is a ghost story. The dead sit at our tables long after they have gone.

But daughters have their own lives. You can't smother them. She'll get married. Have children.

Orang-orang asing adalah keluarga yang belum kau kenal.

Finally, on the fourth of November, when those he loved had left the room just for a moment—to grab coffee in the kitchen, the first time none of them were with him since the coma began—Morrie stopped breathing.

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them—a mother's approval, a father's nod—are covered by moments of their own accomplishments.

Families are like pieces of art, they can be made from many materials. Sometimes they are from birth, sometimes they are melded, sometimes they are merely time and circumstance mixing together, like eggs being scrambled in a Michigan kitchen.

Because there was a ghost involved, you may call this a ghost story. But what family isn't a ghost story? Sharing tales of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them.

Invest in the human family. Invest in people. Build a little community of those you love and who love you." He squeezed my hand gently. I squeezed back harder. And like that carnival contest where you bang a hammer and watch the disk rise up the pole, I could almost see my body heat rise up Morrie's chest and neck into his cheeks and eyes. He smiled.

This is part of what a family is about, not just love, but letting others know there's someone who is watching out for them. It's what I missed so much when my mother died—what I call your 'spiritual security'—knowing that your family will be there watching out for you. Nothing else will give you that. Not money. Not fame." He shot me a look. "Not work," he added.

I don't know what it is about the food your mother makes for you, especially when it's something that anyone can make - pancakes, meat loaf, tuna salad - but it carries a certain taste of memory.

I still don't understand, Eddie whispered. What good came from your death? You lived, the Blue Man answered. But we barely knew each other. I might as well have been a stranger....Strangers, the Blue Man said, are just family you have yet to come to know.

You are born into your first one. Your mother plays the lead. She shares the stage with your father and siblings. Or perhaps your father is absent, an empty stool under a spotlight. But he is still a founding member, and if he surfaces one day, you will have to make room for him.

Children begin by needing their parents. Over time, they reject them. Eventually, they become them.

another family story is forges, one that father and son will laugh about for decades. This is how a legacy is built. One memory at a time.

So often, we push away the voices closest to us. But once they're gone, we reach for them.

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them-a mother's approval, a fathers nod-are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.

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