Quotes About Loss

She does not want to feel even the faintest temptation to call his mobile number, as she had done obsessively for the first year after his death so she could hear his voice on the answering service. Most days now his loss is a part of her, an awkward weight she carries around, invisible to everyone else, subtly altering the way she moves through the day. But today, the Anniversary of the day he died, is a day when all bets are off.

My voice, when it emerged, cracked a little. "I'm not in love with a ghost.

How could I convey the way those short months had changed the way I felt about everything? The way he had skewed my world so totally that is made no sense without him

Most days now his loss is a part of her, an awkward weight she carries around, invisible to everyone else, subtly altering the way she moves through the day.

You shut down a library Louisa, you don't just shut down a building, you shut down hope.

I think about your sister a lot. I think about Will too. When people we love die young it's a nudge, reminding us that we shouldn't take any of it for granted, that we have a duty to make the most of what we have. I feel like I finally get that.

We move on always carrying with us those we have lost. What we aim to do in our little group is ensure that carrying them is not a burden, something that feels impossible to bear, a weight keeping us stuck in the same place. We want their presence to feel like a gift.

Sometimes I look at the lives of the people around me and I wonder if we aren't all destined to leave a trail of damage. It's not just your mum and dad who fuck you up, Mr. Larkin. I gazed around me, like someone suddenly handed clear glasses, and I saw that pretty much everyone bore the brutal imprint of love, whether it was lost, whipped away from them, or simply vanished into a grave.

It had been years before she could view anybody else's happiness without mourning the loss of her own.

She couldn't believe losing someone you had known such a short time could feel like losing part of yourself, that it could make food taste wrong and colors seem dull.

it was as if I had lost a layer of skin—I woke up laughing, or crying.

How could I explain to this girl what Will and I had been to each other, the way I felt that no person in the world had ever understood me like he did or ever would again? How could she understand that losing him was like having a hole shot straight through me, a painful, constant reminder, an absence I could never fill?

I saw that pretty much everyone bore the brutal imprint of love, whether it was lost, whipped away from them, or simply vanished into a grave.

And yet. To commit to Sam was to commit to the likelihood of more loss.

When someone we love is snatched from us, it often feels very hard to make plans. Sometimes people feel like they have lost faith in the future,

So with the loss of my family as well as the man I had loved, every thread that had linked me to who I was had been abruptly cut. I felt as if I had simply floated off, untethered, to some unknown universe.

But I knew very well how the persona you chose to present to the world could be very different from what was inside. I knew how grief could make you behave in ways you couldn't even begin to understand.

She cried like someone heartbroken.

How could I explain to this man how much I wanted to work? Did he have the slightest idea how much I missed my old job? ... I had never considered that you might miss a job like you missed a limb--a constant, reflexive thing.

I turned away, unexpectedly afraid to look at him. I was afraid of what he might be feeling, the depth of his loss, the extent of his fears. Will Traynor's life had been so far beyond the experiences of mine. Who was I to tell him how he should want to live it?

Maybe that's the thing we need to understand, Alice. That some things are a gift, even if you don't get to keep them." There was a silence before he spoke again. "Maybe just to know that something this beautiful exists is all we can really ask for.

Most days now his loss is a part of her, an awkward weight she carries around, invisible to everyone else.

Stolen from someone. Like they stole everything. Occupied. I was occupied. I disappeared.

we can rejoice in the fact that every person we have discussed and mourned and grieved over was here, walking among us – and whether they were taken after six months or sixty years, we were lucky to have them.' He nodded. 'We were lucky to have them.' I