Quotes About Memories

No more bereavement food. I was sick of it. It's funny how time is measured after you've lost someone. Everything relates back to that second your life swerved. The calendar isn't measured by the names of the months or seasons anymore, but by those significant dates. The day we met. The first time we kissed. The first dinner with his family. The anniversary of his death. The date of his funeral.

Maybe we never get over what happened when we were little.

WAKE UP around three in the morning, knowing immediately that Colonel has died.

She missed her dad with a constant ache. She missed the reassurance, the comfort a good father brings a daughter.

every day takes you further from the time he was alive, slicing you with the razor-sharp realization that those days would never be celebrated again.

I had often envisioned my funeral—me lying against the rose-colored satin, looking utterly stunning, U2' s and Ed Sheeran's sadder songs playing gently in the background while my friends wept and laughed over their precious memories of me.

My childhood had ended, and I never even had the chance to say goodbye.

Unfortunately those eyes - his eyes - never fade. They've haunted my dreams for years." - Hannah (Forsaken)

What-ifs are kind of like ex-boyfriends." Carmen appeared on my other side. "The more attention you give 'em, the more likely they are to stalk you and show up in your bedroom closet when you're getting out of the shower.

It takes me longer than an instant to get over somebody.

When you're on your deathbed, you probably aren't counting the movies you've made.

To lose love is a terrible thing. But to turn away from it is unbearable. Will you spend the rest of your life replaying it in your head? Wondering if you walked away too soon or too easily? Or if you'll ever love anyone that deeply again?

I guess no one stays friends for more than thirty years without broken hearts along the way.

You will always miss her. There will be days - even years from now - when the missing will be so sharp it will take your breath away. But there will be good days, too, months and years of them. In one way or another you'll be searching for her all your life.

know now what matters, and it is not what I have lost. It is my memories. Wounds heal. Love lasts.

You have a child, so you know. You are my heart, baby girl. You are everything I did right. And I want you to know I would do it all again, every wonderful terrible second of it. I would do years and years of it again for one minute with you.

He taught her something new about friendship: it picked right back up where you'd left off, as if you hadn't been apart at all.

Instinctively, she lifted her camera and minimized her view of the world. It was how she managed her memories, how she processed the world. In pictures. With a camera, she could crop and reframe her life.

No mother. Two small words, and yet within them lay a bottomless well of pain and loss, a ceaseless mourning for touches that were never received and words of wisdom that were never spoken. No single word was big enough to adequately describe the loss of your mother.

She knew what nightmares could do to a person and how bad memories could change who you were.

Books are the mile markers of my life. Some people have family photos or home movies to record their past. I've got books. Characters. For as long as I can remember, books have been my safe place. I read about places I can barely imagine and lose myself in journeys to foreign lands to save girls who didn't know they were really princesses.

what shall we drink to?" "How about family?" Stacy said, showing up just in time to pour a fourth shot. "To those who are here, those who are gone, and those who are lost." and she clicked glasses with mom

Lately, though, I find myself thinking about the war and my past, about the people I lost. Lost. It makes it sound as if I misplaced my loved ones; perhaps I left them where they don't belong and turned away, too confused to retrace my steps. They are not lost. Nor are they in a better place. They are gone. As I approach the end of my years, I know that grief, like regret, settles into our DNA and remains forever a part of us.

Memories are who we are, Tul. In the end, that's all the luggage you take with you. Love and memories are what last.