Quotes About Bereavement

To my ninth decade I have totter'd on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.

What an odd course fate charts for us, does it not? Bereavement is the unwelcome current that forced you to an unintended harbor. But here, perhaps, the vessel lies that will carry you onward to the place where you were always meant to go.

As he passed me my mittens, he took my hand between his own. "What an odd course fate charts for us, does it not? Bereavement is the unwelcome current that forced you to an unintended harbor. But here, perhaps, the vessel lies that will carry you onward to the place where you were always meant to go.

Did is a word of achievement Won't is a word of defeat Might is a word of bereavement Can't is a word of defeat Ought is a word of duty Try is a word each hour Will is a word of beauty Can is a word of power.

Naturally they were not a happy family, but they had good hearts, and did their best to console each other in bereavement and impoverishment.

...Though much it seems a wonder and a wo That one so loved should be so early lost, And hallowed tears may unforbidden flow To mourn the blossom that we cherished most: Yet all is well; God's good design I see, That where our treasure is, our hearts may be!

Panting to help the dear ones and yet not knowing how, lest any voice bereave them... One who only said "I am sorry" helped me the most when father ceased — it was too soon for language.

Memories streamed over her, and she sat up, images converging in her mind's eye, the sneaker wave of grief catching her in its riptide pull once again, leaving her washed ashore, bereft, with two deep desires: to sleep forever, or to live life for them both. "Oh

No matter the circumstances are that you lose someone, nobody's truly prepared. Steve's accident was so unexpected - it was extremely challenging.

Ev­ery­one else I could call is dead.

We've got ourselves a lot of bereavement overload

Le plus difficile, c'est la non-certitude, cette probabilité, même infime, que vous puissiez la retrouver encore. Cette brèche vous laisse dans l'errance, vous empêche de commencer à faire votre deuil.

As if no one knew what to do in the face of such tragedy except to make the heaviest, heartiest, most prosaic dish they could, to give the bereaved something solid to hold on to.

Mr. Gradgrind, apprised of his wife's decease, made an expedition from London, and buried her in a business-like manner. He then returned with promptitude to the national cinder-heap, and resumed his sifting for the odds and ends he wanted, and his throwing of the dust about into they eyes of other people who wanted other odds and ends - in fact, he resumed his parliamentary duties.

Suspended in grief, I'd come unmoored from my senses. From 'Or She Dies'.

I guess, over time, I had convinced myself that I could imagine what it would be like to lose a son or daughter. You try to imagine it so that you can write the right kind of letters or form the right words to try to comfort. But you can't even come close. It is unimaginable.

[after the death of a loved one] It is when there is nothing more to be done that the reality of the loss often hits with full force.

Her hands were empty now, as empty as her heart, which itself was a coconut shell with its meat scooped out.

It was the nature of his profession that his experience with death should be greater than for most and he said that while it was true that time heals bereavement it does so only at the cost of the slow extinction of those loved ones from the heart's memory which is the sole place of their abode then or now. Faces fade, voices dim. Seize them back, whispered the sepulturero. Speak with them. Call their names. Do this and do not let sorrow die for it is the sweetening of every gift

He said that while it was true that time heals bereavement it does so only at the cost of the slow extinction of those loved ones from the heart's memory which is the sole place of their abode then or now. Faces fade, voices dim. Seize them back, whispered the sepulturero. Speak with them. Call their names. Do this and do not let sorrow die for it is the sweetening of every gift.

When along the pavement, Palpitating flames of life, People flicker around me, I forget my bereavement, The gap in the great constellation, The place where a star used to be

If your twin was dead, were you still a twin?

Simos said, "Grief work must be shared. In sharing, however, there must be no impatience, censure or boredom with the repetition, because repetition is necessary for catharsis and internalization and eventual unconscious acceptance of the reality of the loss. The bereaved are sensitive to the feelings of others and will not only refrain from revealing feelings to those they consider unequal to the burden of sharing the grief but may even try to comfort the helpers." (97)

My mom was dead. My mom was dead. My mom was dead. Everything I ever imagined about myself had disappeared into the crack of her last breath.