Quotes About Loss

Then he pulled out a handgun and shot me in the chest. I was standing on the lawn and I fell. The bullet hole opened wide and my heart rolled out of my rib cage and down into a flower bed. Blood gushed rhythmically from my open wound, then from my eyes, my ears, my mouth. It tasted like salt and failure. The bright red shame of being unloved soaked the grass in front of our house, the bricks of the path, the steps of the porch. My heart spasmed among the peonies like a trout.

Divorce shreds the muscles of our hearts so that they will hardly beat without a struggle.

I see it for what is is, now. It is a house built on ashes. Ashes of the life Granddad shared with Gran, ashes of the maple from which the tire swing flew, ashes of the old Victorian house with the porch and the hammock. The new house is built on the grave of all the trophies and symbols of the family: the New Yorker cartoons, the taxidermy, the embroidered pillows, the family portraits.

One day when no one else was around, I went into the craft room at the back of the ground floor. I touched Gran's collection of fabrics, the shiny bright buttons, the coloured threads. My head and shoulders melted first, followed by my hips and knees. Before long I was a puddle, soaking into the pretty cotton prints. I drenched the quilt she never finished, rusted the metal parts of her sewing machine. I was pure liquid loss...

Don't cause distress, she said. Don't remind people of a loss. "Do you understand, Cady? Silence is a protective coating over pain.

What a horrible death for those poor, dear, naughty dogs.

My head and shoulders melted first, followed by my hips and knees. Before long I was a puddle, soaking into the pretty cotton prints. I drenched the quilt she never finished, rusted the metal parts of her sewing machine. I was pure liquid loss...

I had lost my dad. I had come here to this island from a house of tears and falsehood and I saw Gat, and I saw that rose in his hand, and in that one moment, with the sunlight from the window shining in on him, the apples on the kitchen counter, the smell of wood and ocean in the air, I did call it love.

I'd think of these images - people dying, a city drowning - instead of thinking about Rosemary, dying, drowning.

Do you still miss Gran?" I ask him as we head toward New Clairmont. "Because I miss her. We never talk about her." "A part of me died," he says. "And it was the best part.

Tragedy is ugly and tangled, stupid and confusing.

I never got an explanation. I just know he left me.

as if this tragedy marked the end of the family. And perhaps it did. And perhaps it did not.

My head and shoulders melted first, followed by my hips and knees. Before long I was a puddle, soaking into the pretty cotton prints. I drenched the quilt she never finished, rusted the metal parts of her sewing machine. I was pure liquid loss, then, for an hour or two. My grandmother, my grandmother. Gone forever, though I could smell her Chanel perfume on the fabrics.

She is a ghost climbing out of the sea, returning to the spot where no one loved her quite enough to keep her safe.

Then he pulled out a handgun and shot me in the chest. I was standing on the lawn and I fell. The bullet hole opened wide and my heart rolled out of my rib cage and down into a flower bed. Blood gushed rhythmically from my open wound,

It'll just hurt a lot.

Do you still miss Gran?" I ask him as we head toward New Clairmont. "Because I miss her. We never talk about her." "A part of me died," he says. "And it was the best part." "You think so?" I ask "That is all there is to say about it," says Granddad.

It could have lived so much longer.

A part of me died. And it was the best part.

Before we became criminals. Before we became ghosts.

I was pure liquid loss, then, for an hour or two.

It is good to be loved, even though it will not last. It is good to know that once upon a time, there was Gat and me.

There's nothing in our whole house that says he ever lived with us, except me. Why are you allowed to erase my father and I'm not allowed to " "Erase yourself?" Mummy says.