Quotes About Loss

Their baby girl had been born premature while Ian was at sea, and it became immediately apparent that she had a defective heart. By the time Ian returned home, Allison Marie had already been laid to rest.

No one told me it would hurt this much.

These unwelcome feelings could be attributed, Mary realized, to her mother's death this past February.

The little girl's voice was thin with pain. "They were so pretty," she said. And then she died.

Grandmother was gone. The house was gone. Green Valley was gone.

The part of me that's me is gone. I'm just part of this line of people. There's no me left. I'm nothing.

After Christian's death he'd just existed. He felt nothing, just a sense of emptiness. In some ways he welcomed that hollowness inside of him. It was easier to be numb, not caring beyond the basic needs to survive. But with spring's return, some intangible force stirred inside him, as if his emotions had been frozen through dead of winter. Now it was time to live again. His spirit awakened.

To ache so deeply now for Nana gave the older woman's life profound meaning. It was a privilege to mourn such a loss because it meant you had loved and been loved.

The hardest memories are the pieces of what might have been.

Children lose their innocence piece by piece. The layers are carved away until our hearts have been exposed and polished into an unnatural gloss. We spend the rest of our lives trying to remember why we ever loved so passionately and how we dreamed so simply, before life chiseled us down to the core.

I buried my grief for my son, not my memories, but my grief.

There was no true recovery from the loss of a child. A part of her was broken and it couldn't be fixed.

Maybe is wasn't love so much as a fear of losing everything I'd accomplished. I was afraid to let go.

Tillie studied her mother's face. The face which had seen thirty-seven years of life. Twenty-one years of marriage. The birth of ten babies. The death of one.

To love is to risk the pain of loss. But it's a risk that's worth taking.

When parents die, the dream dies, too—the dream that they will see you for who you really are (and, I suppose, the dream that they will ever be the parents you wish for).

No one can truly know the answer to the question, What will you do when you lose the person you love?

Now he wasn't going to be here to love me or to talk to me. To have conversations with me about everything. Stuff. What was on his mind.

realize I hate the word widow. It's sexless. I'm never using it again.)

What will become of you and me (This is the school in which we learn ...) Besides the photo and the memory? (... that time is the fire in which we burn.) Avid its rush, that reeling blaze! Where is my father and Eleanor? Not where are they now, dead seven years, But what they were then? No more? No more?

Quella perdita della libertà nello spazio fisico, aveva trovato il modo di compensarla, sostituendovi spazi di pensiero nuovi. Ciascuno se la cava come può, ammesso che ci riesca.

He was in his fifties. He'd wasted his entire life. Such people were very dear to those of us who'd wasted only a few years.

He saw no sign of their Bible, either. If the Lord had failed to protect even the book of his own Word, this proved to Grainier that here had come a fire stronger than God.

He'd wasted his entire life. Such people were very dear to those of us who'd only wasted a few years.