Quotes About Loss

Life was short and loss was long and if anyone could find a bit of happiness – a tiny bit – they had to cling onto it like a lifebelt thrown to a drowning man

Everyone, if they are lucky, loses parents that they love, in the end.

In my country I was an engineer, and taught at the university. I had a big house, many nice things. Then they decide they no longer like universities. Here I cook greasy sausage for 15 hours a day. Lots of people have hard things in their lives.

Now it was rare to lose a parent or lose a child; and people wouldn't discuss it, in case it invited bad luck in. In case it was tempting fate, or superstition. She thought of how many people wouldn't talk about Hari's speechlessness in case drawing attention to it would somehow visit it upon their own children.

Each member of the family shipwrecked on their own island of grief.

Which means that in the end there are certain things you can take with you when you flee, things that have no weight, such as music.

Everything had kept getting less, they'd had to leave behind more and more baggage, or else it was taken from them, as though they were now too weak to carry all those things that are part of life, as though someone were trying to force them into old age by relieving them of all this.

The end of a day on which a life has ended is still far from being the end of days.

The Lord gave, and the Lord took away, her grandmother said to her at the edge of the grave. But that wasn't right, because the Lord had taken away much more than had been there to start with, and everything her child might have become was now lying there at the bottom of the pit, waiting to be covered up.

Tanr? verdi, Tanr? ald?, demiÅŸti kad?na büyükannesi mezar çukurunun ba??nda.

You never know the last time you'll see a place. A person.

I wondered if this was the way old crushes died, with a whimper, slowly, and then, just like that—gone.

I couldn't even be mad at him, because this was who he was. This was who he'd always been. He'd never lied about that. He gave and then he took away. I felt it in the pit of my stomach, the familiar ache, that lost, regretful feeling only he could give me. I never wanted to feel it again. Never, ever. Maybe this was why I came, so I could really know. So I could say good-bye.

When a person you love dies, it doesn't feel real. It's like it's happening to someone else. It's someone else's life. I've never been good with the abstract. What does it mean when someone is really truly gone?

On the day of his mother's funeral, to the boy I loved more than I had ever loved anything or anyone, I said, "Go to hell.

Gone had come to mean something different, in a way that is hadn't used to. Something permanent.

And then I had a thought, clear as day. I would never be somebody's favorite again. I would never be a kid again, not in the same way. That was all over now. She was really gone.

People come in and out of your life. For a time they are your world; they are everything. And then one day they're not. - Lara Jean

I hoped I never saw him again. If I ever had to look at him again, if he looked at me the way he did that day, it would break me.

And in the end, he would become a memory, pressed in my heart like a leaf in my book.

You'll just do what you did before he was your boyfriend," Alicia says. "You'll go about your day, and you will miss him at first, but over time it will ease. It will lessen." She reaches out, touches her papery hand to my cheek. A smile plays at her lips. "All you need is time, and you, little one, have all the time in the world.

Things feel like they'll be forever, but they aren't. Love can go away, or people can, without even meaning to. Nothing is guaranteed.

His eyes were these bleak and empty abysses, like sockets. There was nothing there. The boy I thought I knew so well was gone. He looked so lost sitting there. I felt that old lurch, that gravitational pull, that desire to inhabit him—like wherever he was in this world, I would know where to find him, and I would do it. I would find him and take him home. I would take care of him, just like Susannah wanted.

Your house is lovely," I say, even though it isn't. It's old; it could use a good cleaning. But the things inside it are lovely. "It's empty now. All my things sold up. Can't take it with you, you know." "You mean when you die?" I whisper. He glares at me. "No. I mean to the nursing home.