Quotes About Loss

Still, she experienced a pang, like a spasm in an organ that had been removed or a cramp in a phantom limb. It faded quickly, and she knew that was the last pain of its kind she would feel. A woman much like her had once loved a man who looked like him. Neither of those people existed anymore.

Death comes to us all, that is the only thing we can be certain of. It makes no difference whether it is a thief in a garbage dump or a policeman in the line of duty. When someone dies at the hands of another, the pain for the survivors is the same.

Therefore I say this : in sooth, you may come to feel sorrow; but remember in that day that the happiness you have lost is not the only happiness life has to give ; and if you believe this—and you will one day—then later you will understand that the hardest and heaviest part of your sorrow before arose from your own obstinacy.

Still, the one who best understands the significance of light is not the electrician, not the painter, not the photographer, but the man who lost his sight in adulthood. There must be the wisdom of deficiency in deficiency, just as there is the wisdom of plenty in plenty.

When a human's tears finally dry up forever, they transform into a monster.

When a human's tears dry up forever, they transform into a monster

Little by little - no, a lot by a lot - they all took from her. No one gave her anything. Mitsuko became a hollow shell.

By then she was dead. In fact, she may have been dead a while ago. Physically, several seconds ago, mentally, ages ago.

Now, once again, 2 students left. But of course they're a part of you now.

Shinji slowly fell forward onto his face. Debris bounced up on impact. It took less than thirty seconds for the rest of his body to die. The memento of his beloved uncle--the earring worn by the woman he loved--was now stained with the blood running down Shinji's left ear, reflecting the glow from the red flames of the farm building. And so the boy known as the Third Man, Shinji Mimura, was dead.

Grief gets worse, you know that, as you get older.

It's so odd, isn't it? That know we are all going to die, & that we have these difficult passages to go through with our parents & friends, & other people we love & care about who are also going to die, & yet it's almost as if we are never really ready.

As you know, things change. People die. Everything changes.

Grief, and remembering, and loss cannot be predicted or held at bay. She knows, and she lets her anger at the missing... at all the time she let slip away spill from inside her.

Now you know why it was so hard for me to let go of one more thing...the land, the view, a sense of something...one thing just staying the way it should be. ... I'm tired, tired of losing ground, of losing control, of losing so many people that I love.

She thinks she will explode with all the seemingly endless positions of grief.

Letting go does not have to be just because of a death. People lose many things they once believed they would have forever.... Let go. I guarantee that you will not fall

Whatever loss you hold against your breastbone... All that loss needs to be colored in & then held to the light.

It comes back to love, they decide. Love & the fear of loss, & even greater fear of opening up yourself in ways that would also leave you open to a bit of rejection & loss if it didn't quite work out the way you had been dreaming.

Death...does this to people. It slaps the living upside the head and it makes us ponder and exchange events and feelings that might stay hidden.

This dying & grief stuff knows no boundaries. It doesn't matter if the pain of loss is for a baby, an elderly parent, someone who drops dead at 30, the sorrow & grief doesn't change because of age.

Why can't we have a funeral the way we want to have a funeral? Why don't we have a funeral to celebrate the way we lived? Tradition be damned. The sadness of the loss needs to honored & embraced, but for now I want to focus on celebrating.

Not only are there many ways to grieve, but showing sorrow, reaching out, being honest about your loss is as important as anything. ... Go kiss someone, go swim naked, go quit the job you hate, go celebrate your own life before it's over. Go. Do something with gusto & gratitude & with a laugh at the back of your throat, a laugh that never ends.

The grieving, she knows, never ends, and all that remains is the miracle of love. And she holds onto that miracle as if to save her life.