Best 520 quotes in «grieving quotes» category

Eby wanted to say so much to her. She wanted to say that waking up is the most important part of grieving, that so many women in their family failed to do it, and she was proud of Kate for fighting her way back. But Eby didn't say anything. She could fix a lot of things, but family wasn't one of them. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to come to terms with.

Electra, grieving for death, for her father, as a nightingale grieving always.

For no soul can ever be replaced, and death claims a beauty and a magnificence that will always be missed.

Everyone was eating, talking softly, glancing at me, hugging me, eating. It was as if someone had turned the volume down. Everything looked normal, but the sound was muted. Death did this, set all this weirdness in motion, made people appear out of nowhere carrying casseroles, saying 'I'm sorry' over and over, death muffled their voices.

Fear manifested itself as a physical presence that seemed to dominate the public sphere. Time almost stopped. Even without confirmation I could sense that something had gone terribly wrong.

For the rest of the morning they worked quietly ad steadily, realizing that their contentment here at Uncle Monty's house did not erase their parents' death, not at all, but at least it made them feel better after feeling so sad, for so long.

For those struggling with grief, there’s no timetable. It can last months, years, or longer. There is no rush. Give yourself permission to take however long it may be to fully heal from your loss.

from under the ground, from under the waters, they clutch at us, they clutch at us, we won’t let go.

From a medical standpoint, the third and the most probable explanation is that Jesus was indeed dead, and what his disciples experienced were mere hallucinations evoked by the grief over the loss of their beloved teacher. It is clinically known as “Post-Bereavement Hallucinations Experiences” or PBHE.

Grief could take the form of violence too, could give a false sense of permission, erase the world around, and that was what frightened Clare most about violence, how transferable it was.

Great pain is repetitive. Grief is repetitive.

Grief came in waves, sometimes big, sometimes small, but even on the calmest days, the grief remained. The tide still came ashore.

...gripping the rim of the sink you claw your way to stand and cling there, quaking with will, on heron legs, and still the hot muck pours out of you. (p. 27)

...grieving needs space, and it needs so much time. And it needs to be done; it cannot be trodden round or not looked in the eye.

Grief is such a lonely thing. There is no-one in it with you - others may grieve for the same soul, but they do not grieve exactly for what you also grieve. No-one has lost precisely what you have lost. Not exactly, never exactly. We are in it alone.

Grief makes gravity heavier and air molecules denser, so breathing is accomplished in a shallow, half-hearted way.

He looked at me like I was the stars when all I’d ever felt like was the dark nothingness between them.

He did not enjoy the sorrow, but he would not have missed the years that he and Joseph were friends, either. Such joy was worth a little sorrow.

He means to make his subjects merciful and wise; sorrow and struggle bringeth both. We will, he tells me, grow by grieving, live by dying, love by losing. The heart itself is the field of battle and the garden green.

He took her like He took my mother. To torment me! To kill me and keep me alive to live dead! She did this, she let that bastard do this and your stupid loving GOD allowed it!!" ~Solomon Gorge~

Her death...brought me as nothing else could do to know and end my jealousy of God. It saved her faith from assault.

He was a son of the revolutionary movement when he and the revolutionary movement were still pristine. It was a special time for Filipino activists—a time when a hundred flowers bloomed and a thousand thoughts contended in a movement that did not know yet the price of betrayal from within. But flowers wilt and thoughts give way to rancor with the passing of years. And so some may grieve not his passing, while others fall to the ground in tears./FOR HORACIO BOY MORALES, JR. (September 11, 1943 – February 29, 2012)

I am not, anymore, a Christian, but I am lifted and opened by any space with prayer inside it. I didn’t know why I was going, today, to stand in the long cool darkness of St. John of the Divine, but my body knew, as bodies do, what it wanted. I entered the oddly small door of the huge space, and walked without hesitating to the altar I hadn’t consciously remembered, a national memorial for those who died of AIDS, marked by banners and placards. My heart melted, all at once, and I understood why I was there. Because the black current the masseuse had touched wanted, needed, to keep flowing. I’d needed to know I could go on, but I’d also been needing to collapse. Which is what I did, some timeless tear span of minutes sitting on the naked gray stone. A woman gave me the kind of paper napkins you get with an ice cream cone. It seemed to me the most genuine of gifts, made to a stranger: the recognition of how grief moves in the body, leaving us unable to breathe, helpless, except for each other.

He wept bitter tears over the death of his enemy. It was his enemy, after all, who knew him best and kept him up at night.

How I wish I could undo it all … take it all back… All those years I spent unhappy with him …. when I should have been looking for you.

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

How do you love someone and just… walk away? Just like that. You just, go on as normal…. You get up, get dressed, go to work… How can you do that? How can you be okay with that?

How many times did we pass each other before we met? If only I’d known…. I would have searched for you endlessly. If only I’d found you before it was already too late.

I am not alive if I am only a wispy memory in someone’s fickle brain . . .

I’d never dreamed anybody could love me the way he did. And even when he proved it to me time and again – I still could hardly believe it was true.

I didn’t love you to seek revenge. I didn’t love you out of loneliness or unhappiness. I didn’t love you for any of the misguided reasons that time might convince you I did. I just loved you because you’re you.

I do not diminish his love for me,' Imogen said. 'I would never do that. I know precisely how much he loved me: as much as he was capable of loving any woman, probably. He loved me somewhat...after his stables, perhaps more than his mother.' 'Oh, Imogen,' Annabel said. 'Why dwell on such a-' 'Grief is like that!' Imogen snapped. 'You can only fool yourself so far.

I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)

I don’t think you ever really understood…. …. All the love I had in the world went to you.

I have poured my heart out …. And now I am empty.

I feel . . . low," I say, looking away. "Like, literally low. Flat. It's not . . . sad, exactly. I mean, sad too, obviously. But that's a different feeling, I guess." She nods. "There's a reason it's called 'depression' and not 'chronic sadness' or 'manic sorrow.'" She picks up a foam stress ball and squeezes it, leaving imprints of her fingers. "Depressions like these are holes left behind by a physical force. With mental depression, the force can be chemical or situational or both, but it doesn't just make a hole--it presses you into one that feels impossible to escape.

If you cannot hold me in your arms, then hold my memory in high regard. And if I cannot be in your life, then at least let me live in your heart.

If you’re searching for a quote that puts your feelings into words – you won’t find it. You can learn every language and read every word ever written – but you’ll never find what’s in your heart. How can you? He has it.

If you sense the tide of grief welling up in you, treat it like the sacred emotion it is, and honor it. Give yourself time to sink into it, allow it to immobilize you with its weight, and trust that it will flow through you and out - if you let it. Grief truly felt never lasts forever - only grief avoided does.

I had someone once who made every day mean something. And now…. I am lost…. And nothing means anything anymore.

I felt it then, the vibration along that invisible tether. I pushed away from it. I would not go to the Darkling now. I wouldn't go to him ever again. But still, I knew wherever he was, he was grieving.

I’ll have to build a widow’s walk,” she said, and then she looked at Aggie and smiled so Aggie knew that she could smile, too, that the rest of their lives wouldn’t be all sadness and loss.

Imagine going a long time without seeing someone you love. Then after months or years getting the moment to see them and catch up. I think that's what death is like. Going a long time and missing them a lot, more and more each day. No matter how many years go by you miss them just as much as the first day they left. I miss my mom. Its been years. Its easier to manage but I miss her more and more. But I often think of the moment we will meet again and catch up again. In living life going a long time not seeing someone is tough then catching up right where you left off BUT imagine in death how powerful the feeling to see them again must be. Death is getting the chance to catch up and see them again. Experiencing the butterflies and that special high that is felt all over your body. Do not fear death. Embrace it as you do life. In life, love hard! Life moves fast. For when your time comes you have a chance to love hard again and catch up with those that left, those you've missed and those that missed you. Someone is there counting the days to seeing you again. Some you may not expect or some you've missed just as much. Don't fear what you think you're leaving behind. Don't fear at all. For what you leave is temporary, the living will too join you as you wait for them. And, that moment to catch up is worth the wait. You will pick up right where you left off as if time did not pass.

I miss you so much in these wee morning hours, when the depth of the night sets my spirit free. When the forest is dark, and there doesn’t have to be anything in the world but the beauty I pull out of it. I miss you throughout the day, as I come across glories and wonders that could easily overwhelm me, but just dull because you’re not here to enjoy them.

I miss that feeling of connection. Knowing he was out there somewhere thinking about me at the same time I was thinking about him.

I'm gonna tell you some stories, and some of them might be true." Jack Bates

I miss your face. That big bright smile. You always had it, in any weather. It's hard for me to find one these days. These cold November days. Except when I think of you.

In a way, it was the same as any normal break up. You took what was yours …. and I kept what I’d had from before we were together… You took my heart …. and I had nothing…

I must stop remembering. I must keep them in a faraway place. The more I remember, the greater my agony. These thoughts stuttered in my mind. So I stopped talking about them, I wouldn't mouth my boys' names, I shoved away stories of them. Let them, let our life, become as unreal as that wave.

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you. And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you. No, I don't want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) No, I don't want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) With you (This world is only gonna break your heart) What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you. What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you and, I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) No, I want to fall in love (This world is only gonna break your heart) With you.