Quotes About Loss

but I try to remind myself of the blessed years that we shared—especially now, when I am drowning in riptides of sorrow and loss.

Aside from the brief period after Victor's death, sleep

And while I tossed and turned, it dawned on me that love was the most powerful emotion of all, because it made you vulnerable to the possibility of losing everything that really mattered.

L'amore era il sentimento più potente, perché ti rendeva vulnerabile di fronte alla possibilità di perdere tutto ciò che importava davvero.

Why are the photographs of him as a little boy so incredibly hard to look at? Something is over. Now instead of those shiny moments being things we can share together in delighted memories, I, the survivor, have to bear them alone. So it is with all the memories of him. They all lead into blackness. All I can do is remember him, I cannot experience him. Nothing new can happen between us.

A friend said, "Remember, he's in good hands." I was deeply moved. But that reality does not put Eric back in my hands now. That's my grief. For that grief, what consolation can there be other than having him back?

But the pain of the no more outweighs the gratitude of the once was. Will it always be so? I didn't know how much I loved him until he was gone. Is love like that?

IT'S so WRONG, so profoundly wrong, for a child to die before its parents. It's hard enough to bury our parents. But that we expect. Our parents belong to our past, our children belong to our future. We do not visualize our future without them. How can I bury my son, my future, one of the next in line? He was meant to bury me!

I'm riding beside my best friend, and I tell him, in the same offhand tone my mother had used, That's my grandfather's funeral, and he looks at me as if I'm insane.

It's the way I walk through the world, carrying that fear, that the beloved will go, will die, and that I will be the one to blame.

I miss him like one might miss a scar, or wooden leg, something disfiguring but characteristic.

You wouldn't believe that so much could change just because a relationship ended.

But all three of them had had to lose things in order to gain other things. Will had lost his shell and his cool and his distance, and he felt scared and vulnerable, but he got to be with Rachel; and Fiona had lost a big chunk of Marcus, and she got to stay away from the casualty ward; and Marcus had lost himself, and got to walk home from school with his shoes on.

You run the risk of losing anyone who is worth spending time with, unless you are so paranoid about loss that you choose someone unlosable, somebody who could not possibly appeal to anybody else at all.

You spend Christmas at somebody's house, you worry about their operations, you give them hugs and kisses and flowers, you see them in their dressing gown...and then bang, that's it. Gone forever. And sooner or later there will be another mum, another Christmas, more varicose veins. They're all the same. Only the addresses, and the colors of the dressing gown, change.

I loved them, and would always love them. But there was no place where they could fit anymore, so I had nowhere to put all the things I felt. I didn't know what to do with them, and they didn't know what to do with me, and isn't that just like life?

I'm still pretty sick about what I've lost, but I only admit it to myself late at night, which is probably why I'm not the best sleeper.

Will had never wanted to fall in love. When it had happened to friends, it had always struck him as a peculiarly unpleasant-seeming experience, what with all the loss of sleep and weight, and the unhappiness when it was reciprocated, and the suspect, dippy happiness when it was working out.

What came first--the music or the misery? Did I listen to music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music? Do all those records turn you into a melancholy person? People worry about kids playing with guns, and teenagers watching violent videos; we are scared that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands-- literally thousands-- of songs about broken hearts and rejection and pain and misery and loss.

I wanted to hurt her, on this day of all days, just because it's the first time since she left that I've been able to.

What came first the music or the misery?People worry about kids playing with guns,or watching violent videos,that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about the kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak,rejection,pain,misery and loss.Did i listen to pop music because i was miserable?Or was i miserable because i listened to pop music?

And that's the last time we will ever speak, probably. 'No problem': the last words I will ever say to somebody I have been reasonably close to before our lives take different directions. Weird, eh? You spend Christmas at somebody's house, you worry about their operations, you give them hugs and kisses and flowers, you see them in their dressing gown...and then, bang, that's it. Gone forever. And sooner or later there will be another mum, another Christmas, more varicose veins.

What does it feel like, having a missing sister? I can tell you. You know how if you lose something valuable, a wallet or a piece of jewelry, you can't concentrate on anything else? Well, it feels like that all the time, every day

Well. I don't see passion as . . . as petrol. Something that runs out. I see it as more like, I don't know, something you lose. Like keys." He picks up the pen he's using to do the crossword and waves it around. "Or this biro." "Keys get found. Biros don't. So it's important for me to know which it is." Tom doesn't say anything. "Keys? Or a biro?" Tom doesn't say anything. Louise is getting angry.