Quotes About Loss

I am glad not to have lost him entirely, but to see him moved at the whim of the sky, like a man in the wind

But look! I am starting to give him up! I believe he is not coming back. Something has died, inside me, believing that

And then there is the spring park, damp as if freshly peeled, sweet greenhouse, green cemetery with no dead in it—except, in some shaded woods, under some years of leaves and rotted cones, the body of a warbler like a whole note fallen from the sky—my old love for him, like a songbird's rib cage picked clean.

As long as we draw breath, we owe it to the ones we loved and lost to live out our lives without wasting them on regrets.

he wasn't crying for the woman who had died. He was crying for the woman she had been.

Bea's smile softened. "I was that connected to my Robert, as well. In many ways, losing him was worse than losing Leah. She was my blood, but he was my heart.

That love is a comfort to me. I know that the balm it now offers as I feel the wound of his loss will stay with me and transform this grief into something else.

And when you died I took you down to the river. And when I died you waited for me by the shore. So it was that time passed between us.

This is a sad town," he said. "One can be here 10 years and not make enough friends to count. Anything with any character, any history, they will tear it down and they will put in a neon sign. Or something in plastic.

Hope springs eternal—a truism for jilted lovers and for the children of dying parents. We convince ourselves the inevitable isn't, and when it is upon us, we rail and plead. Or deny. Busy with preparation and travel, I had pushed away my worry; now that I was here, at midmorning in Taipei, when less than a day before I'd been in the chilly Bay Area, my new reality struck me.

Thousands of husbands disappeared in those weeks. Sons as young as twelve. Brothers. Friends. What better way to remake society, my mother thought, than to eliminate the teachers and principals, the students, the lawyers and doctors—truly, anybody who had an opinion and a voice? Beyond the river, execution grounds, field after field irrigated with blood, waited to be discovered. Buildings would crush the bones.

Picture the rest of your life without Del and give me a one word description of it." "I can't decide between bleak or pathetic," Tyler admitted finally. "There you go.

Life rushed at her after her father died, as if to remind her that there can be no less life, that there can be no deprivation of life, that life is an endless and eternal living, even if your father is dead.

In death, he had given her what remained of his life, and this was the most beautiful thing. Perhaps we can only give in total beauty and simplicity in the moment of our dying, because that is the only giving that demands no return.

The problem is the puer ever anticipates loss, disappointment, and suffering—which they foresee at the end of every experience, so they cut themselves off at the beginning, retreating almost at once in order to protect themselves.

It was the sound of him alive, and the very last sound he made. Though the last sound he made was no sound at all-the sound of the breath that did not come.

She had thought that when someone died, it would be like they went into a different room. She had not known that life itself transformed itself into into a different room, and trapped you in it without them.

She had thought that when someone died, it would be like they went into a different room. She had not known that life itself transformed into a different room, and trapped you in it without them.

She had thought that when someone died, it would be like they went into a different room. She had not known that life itself transformed itself into a different room, and trapped you in it without them. Sheila Heti

She had thought that when someone died, it would be like they went into a different room. She had not known that life itself transformed itself into a different room, and trapped you in it without them.

The more she thinks about the sort of maroonish light in his room those nights, and the light of the candel flickering, she knows that the colour of that room is how they all felt, and that colour is not just a representation of the world, but of the feelings in a room, and the meaningfulness of a room in time, because in that colour, her father died. She had never seen that colour before. It was the colour of a father dying.

When we don't deal honestly with our lives and the losses we face, when we try to anesthetize the pain and move on, then the suppressed anger or fear or guilt will deal with us until we are ready to deal with those issues.

And then she left, my peace of mind tucked into her pocket along with her nice little notebook.

Loving someone is easy but losing someone is hard.