Quotes About Loss

Infidelity reduces and diminishes, leaving nothing where you once had a sense of self-worth.

Death always leaves unfinished business in its wake, mysteries beyond fathoming, countless unanswered questions amid the detritus of life. All the stories forgotten, the memories lost.

She was pissing me off and I found myself using a mild, deadly tone. "Age doesn't matter. Bobby's dead now. He's older than God. He's as old as anybody's ever going to get.

It seemed odd that in Henry's company I'd felt nothing while there, but in the face of Betsy Bowers's cold authority, all my unprocessed sorrow was surfacing. I took

Climp. After Sloan's death, the two boys decided to move in with their dad. Joey was in the same graduating class she was. His brother

my mother died of an overdose of sleeping pills after extensive surgery so that the cause of death was probably listed as despair.

Bobby was buried on Saturday. . . . I wasn't going to lose control in a public setting like this. Even so, there were moments when I could feel my face heat up and my eyes blur with tears. It was more than this loss. It was all death, every loss - my parents, my aunt.

I`ve collected his life insurance, that`s how dead he is!

Era una suerte que la muerte no le hubiese arrebatado la sabiduría del anciano.

Her thoughts immediately brought to mind a line by Elizabeth Barrett Browning: "I shall but love thee better after death." Some pains are sweet.

Abruptly, they seemed alike to me and equally dear: my father, my son. I felt as though my father had been waiting for this moment to be born to me as the young man he'd been, so touchingly willing to bear witness to his conscience; and the surprise of this new sense of him, this birth, was a gift to me, a sudden balm in those days of my most intense grief.

think that for others in my family, who didn't see him at the end, who didn't witness his slow decline, he may live intact in memory, much as he was before his illness. I hope so. But that isn't true for me. It was in part to exorcise my final haunting images of my father that I wanted to look at, to explain, the way he fragmented and lost himself in his illness; and who he was before

Loss takes up inside of everything sooner or later and eats right through it.

This is what I know about myself. She was all I wanted. And I took her away.

Still everyone, including the abbot, had said that he was running away from his grief. They'd had no idea what they were talking about. He'd cradled his grief, almost to the point of loving it. For so long he refused to give it up, because leaving it behind was like leaving her.

I didn't know how to be in the world without her.

This is the autumn of wonders, yet every day, every single day, I go back to that burned afternoon in August when T. Ray left. I go back to that one moment when I stood in the driveway with small rocks and clumps of dirt around my feet and looked back at the porch. And there they were. All these mothers. I have more mothers than any eight girls off the street. They are the moons shining over me.

There's nothing like a song about lost love to remind you how everything precious can slip through the hinges where you've hung it so careful.

The sorry truth is you can walk your feet to blisters, walk till kingdom-come, and you never will outpace your grief.

Rebirth is almost impossible without the darkness.....I tell myself I am experiencing the death of myself as mother, the death of myself as a younger woman -- precious old lives going by the wayside. Of course, I should let myself grieve. To deny the grief is to squander a transforming and radiant possibility.

The day life turned into nothing this world could fix

I feared my grief would turn to despair, that it would become a skin I couldn't shed.

I want to tell you I'm strong and resolute, but in truth, I feel afraid and alone and uncertain. I feel as if he has died, and I suppose in some way it's true. I'm left with nothing but this strange beating in my heart that tells me I'm meant to do something in this world. I cannot apologize for it, or for loving this small beating as much as him.

Even in the dark I could see that [the tree] was dying, and doing it alone in the middle of these unconcerned pines. That was the absolute way of things. Loss takes up inside of everything sooner or later and eats right through it.