Quotes About Remembrance

When you love someone, they never die," Delia said. "They're always with you in your heart no matter what. Just as your parents live on in you, Natalie.

What do you want want to be remembered for?" she asked tartly. He slowly shook his head. "I just want to be remembered.

ll return it to you as soon as all this is over.I'd rather you keep it as a remembrance of when you were my wife.

Tout ce qui fut sera pour peu qu'on s'en souvienne

There are times," I declared, "when I believe the dead haunt us because we love them too little. We forget them, you see; we don't mean to, but we do.

One day I knew the war would be over, but I wondered how long the remains of war would last in me and in them even after the bombs had stopped falling and the guns were silent. What I feared most was that my generation would teach the hatred and resentment I was learning at the hands of the Japanese to our own children and the cycle of disaffection and violence would never stop.

All those stars in that big streak that goes over the whole sky? You see them? Those are all the Jews who've died. All of them died and went up in the air, and the stars are the stars that they wore on their coats. The stars on the coats come off when their souls float up and the stars live up in the sky forever.

Not everything buried is actually dead. For many, the past is alive.

when people died, they didn't go away. They were very much alive in the minds, in the hearts, in the vivid memories of those left behind. And they were not always easy to live with. Some ghosts had demands.

The morning after their deaths, Armand had gone into their room. The scent of them, the sense of them, almost too much to bear. The clothing. The book. The bookmark. The bedside clock, still ticking. He'd thought that strange. Surely it should have stopped.

When I miss things or let them pass they gather in a heap then rise up and take a life. So, I try not to.

Their lives could not be defined by their deaths. They belonged not in perpetual pain but in the beauty of their short lives.

She'd forgotten to love, but she also forgot to hate. (about Clara's mother, who had dementia)

Clara knew that grief took a terrible toll. It was paid at every birthday, every holiday, each Christmas. It was paid when glimpsing the familiar handwriting, or a hat, or a balled-up sock. Or hearing a creak that could have been, should have been, a footstep. Grief took its toll each morning, each evening, every noon hour as those who were left behind struggled forward.

Je me souviens,

Clara knew that grief took a terrible toll. It was paid at every birthday, every holiday, each Christmas. It was paid when glimpsing the familiar handwriting, or a hat, or a balled-up sock. Or hearing a creak that could have been, should have been, a footstep. Grief took its toll each morning, each evening, every noon hour as those who were left behind struggled forward. Clara wasn't sure

And then he remembered. And lost her again, the island drifting farther out to sea. For Robert Mongeau there would always be a before and an after. All events would henceforth be dated from Sylvie alive and Sylvie dead.

He fell silent, remembering. And then he remembered. And lost her again, the island drifting farther out to sea. For Robert Mongeau there would always be a before and an after. All events would henceforth be dated from Sylvie alive and Sylvie dead.

one day Jean-Guy Beauvoir understood that when people died, they didn't go away. They were very much alive in the minds, in the hearts, in the vivid memories of those left behind. And they were not always easy to live with. Some ghosts had demands.

Do you miss your dad?" And I said: "Who?

Kedves Muti és Vati! Remélem, a macskalincselÅ' gy?lés rendben zajlik. Találtam egy darabka száraz pirítóst a teámhoz meg egy kis kukoricapelyhet, hogy elkerüljem a skorbutot. Gondoljatok rám, ha akad egy szabad percetek. Lányotok, Georgia

There stands the shadow of a glorious name.

Remember me a little while, Pause in the orchard where we often walked, When days were longer and the world was ours. Say, "Cara, please!" one last time, and smile. From beneath the apple tree, Glance up to where I once looked down at you. Wear, just once more, The look that said I was your love, And you were mine until my end. I knew it all the while. Miss me, but not for long. I was your joy, Don't let me be your woe, So remember me, and smile. Then let me go.

GRIEF IS A BY-PRODUCT of love. Because we loved, so must we grieve when the person we love is no longer physically with us. But the fact that they've gone doesn't mean that we must stop loving them, or thinking about them. Coming to terms with this fact, understanding that your love for that person never dies, is a major advance in our understanding of grief.