Quotes About Loss

That, in essence, is the catastrophe of suicide for those who survive: not only the loss of someone, but the loss of the chance to persuade that person to act differently, the loss of the chance to connect.

You lose the ability to trust anyone, to be touched, to grieve. Eventually, you are simply absent from yourself.

She looked at me – I was crying, though she was not – and she took on a tone of gentle reprimand. 'Don't think you're paying me some kind of tribute if you let my death become the great event of your life,' she said to me. 'The best tribute you can pay to me as a mother is to go on and have a good and fulfilling life. Enjoy what you have.

Love is circumstantial; we can love anyone if need be; and losing the one we love is the singular catastrophe. Time does not heal it. Every present moment yearns for even the roughest past.

For some parents of children with horizontal identities, acceptance reaches its apogee when parents conclude that while they supposed they were pinioned by a great and catastrophic loss of hope, they were in fact falling in love with someone they didn't yet know enough to want.

Depression is the flaw in love. If you were married to someone and thought, Well, if my wife dies, I'll find another one, it wouldn't be love as we know it. There's no such thing as love without the anticipation of loss, and that specter of despair can be the engine of intimacy.

I could not bring myself to believe in any love enough to imagine that the loss of me would be noticed, but I knew how sad it would be for him to have worked so hard at saving me and not to have succeeded

Let me bury here the rage I feel to have been twice robbed: once of the child I wanted, and once of the son I loved.

My grasp tightens and becomes acute in moments of loss: I can see the beauty of glass objects fully at the moment when they slip from my hand.

Ne exprim?m iubirea, deoarece satisfacÈ›ia adus? de iubire este enorm?, È™i continu?m s? ne exprim?m iubirea È™i s? acÈ›ion?m protector, deoarece pierderea iubirii e traumatizant?. Dac? n-am simÈ›i durere la pierderea fiinÈ›ei iubite, dac? am avea pl?cerea iubirii, dar n-am simÈ›i nimic când obiectul iubirii noastre e ruin?, am fi considerabil mai puÈ›in protectori decât suntem.

The grief of children was unconditional, fueled by the implicit belief that it would last forever; for a child, grief was not grief unless it was eternal.

The whole world is a charnel house. We always make love on corpses.

Keep your eye on the ridgeline, never lose sight of winter's hem. This is how you'll like to remember yourself: standing slightly apart and moving away, knowing in that last tawny rush of the leaves: what goes out there, it never comes back.

We are no longer as close as before. Henryk is taking something from me. I cannot hold on to that which he will take with him when he goes. And that which is mine in him will die on the other side of the wall. Now there will be less of Pawelek.

Before one finds peace with God, he must have lived, loved and lost something of value to him.

Sometimes, we do ourselves a disservice to yearn for what we've lost. For if we try to find it again, we might discover faults and blemishes memory has been kind enough to erase.

Like blood out of a wound, a keening wail rose from the bottom of my heart and ripped through the graveyard. I lowered my face to Hadassah's shoulder and went quietly and thoroughly to pieces.

queen. You have power, but you have paid dearly for it. You have wealth, but it brings you no joy, for you are dressed even more simply than my mother. You can have anything you desire, and hundreds of servants obey your command, but you cannot retrieve the things you have lost—like your son. Your family.

Maybe his heart is searching for and not finding the place it used to live. I understand that because mine is searching and not finding too.

Me and Butchy sit in front of the TV and watch another church fall down in flames. Flames that I can feel sitting a thousand miles away. Flames that I will feel long after the TV is turned off. Flames and the looks on the faces of people watching their churches burn down—burning hot into the night, burning dark when the morning comes up.

This is good and hot. I remember you used to say that about someone I know. He shakes his head. Give it up, Scotts. That boat sailed, sank, and got towed. But... No. It ain't going to happen. He sits down next to me and I curl up next to him. Nicky, it's hard being a child of your divorce and probably the reason somebody is dead. Nick raises my head with his hands and looks at me and smiles. Life bites, baby girl. ...and sucks. Amen.

Love fades. Love does, no matter what we believe. All that's left are the what-ifs.

Love and death have this in common: they consume you so that everything else ceases to matter

Grief can have its own weightage. What is worse? The loss of a parent or one's own child?