Quotes About Loss

That you're not missing your former love as much as you're missing the person you thought he or she was.

My barn having burned to the ground, I can now see the moon.

Memory is a slippery thing. When something terrible happens to you, like the loss of someone you love...memory can turn into a soft blanket that hides you from the loss.

I would have preferred raised stones as markers," she said simply, and he understood that she was confiding a deeply private thing to him. "I imagined something upright, tall, with chiseled angels rising from it. I wanted a curved elaborate script to spell their names, a poem or a prayer carved into marble. I wanted a building built. A mausoleum.: She sighed. "I wanted something as magnificent as grief.

This time, there are no tears. This time, there is only emptiness and I feel it set in the straight line of my mouth. I am not strong enough for this. I want an earthquake, a hurricane, anything - even a devil, the one with the cloven hoof - Mrs. Leed's unfortunate 13th child - to rush out and stomp on me, break me into little pieces and hurl me to the stars, let me go back with those people I love. Please.

Kerwick, tú y yo jamás podremos regresar adonde estábamos antes que vinieran los normandos. Entre nosotros se ha cerrado una puerta. Olvida que fui una vez tu prometida. -Ninguna puerta hay entre nosotros, Aislinn —dijo él con amargura-. Sólo un hombre." El bobo y la paloma.

air, and even the rain could not wash the

You must have had friends. Didn't you have friends in the army?" He drew a long, slow breath. Just generally he told himself. That was all she was asking. " In the army, you've damned if you do and damned if you don't. You want somebody you can trust at your back, but you get to close... They get blown away, and you're blown away with them.

But we want a record of us where there is 'nothing' as if by holding each other's waists, we could find the border and lose it.

I stopped in the tiny garden that encloses the Tolsta war memorial. The bronze plaque lists too many names for this small place; the same surnames recur over and again. The memorial, in the shape of an open book, also remembers the many soldiers who were returning to Lewis from the Great War, only to be drowned when their ship, the Iolaire, struck rocks outside Stornoway Harbour, which is a difficult one to make sense of.

Conner hadn't liked leaving the gravesite with his father still not buried. But he'd learned from his grandmother's funeral that you have to go. It's expected. Nobody hangs around the cemetary. Grief—a little or a lot—is tucked into your pocket and carried away.

What I wouldn't give to share one more morning with my dad.

I'm sure your father thought he'd have more time. Hadn't we all.

For every joy that passes, something beautiful remains.

Everything that happened in life-whether for good or bad, joyous or tragic reasons-held the potential to sanctify and bring one closer to the Lord. Even, Abby realized, the personal pain and horror of loss. In life's catastrophic upheavals, in the self-fragmentation, confusion, and spirit-shattering grief, there was always the hope of rebirth to a new and even better life-a life not of this world but of the Spirit.

It's hard to miss something that you have never had.

If you love something, know that it will leave on a day you are far from ready.

Innocence, like virginity, is more fun to lose than to keep.' 'Both are quite expensive, sir.

Why is eight years old middle-aged?" he asked a detective one day. When the man asked what Tim meant, he said, "Laura died at sixteen. For her, eight was middle-aged.

You can always come back to a place, even if it isn't there anymore.

They never got over it. They had to harden their hearts so they wouldn't keep breaking.

The crickets were rubbing their hind legs together, unrolling that endless band of sound that when combined with the sound of the sycamore trees losing their heads in the heat-thickened breeze could cause even a girl as unsentimental as Mary to feel like she'd just left something behind on the porch stoop she couldn't bear to live without.

But as soon as she came here . . . she knew that she had lost what she wanted, that the life she had as a girl was the one she desired always, that she had no need of a prince, but only her dreams of a prince.

It was painful to remember him, but the thought of forgetting him was even worse.