“The surroundings fade away and each and every person has their own singular encounter, not just with the deceased but also with the event itself, as if death were a communal property. Nobody can be denied their relationship to it, their membership in that society. And death as something that is, rather than as the lack of something, is sobering to behold.”
Source: A Farewell to Gabo and Mercedes: A Son’s Memoir of Gabriel García Márquez and Mercedes Barcha – A Tender and Intimate Portrait of The Nobel Prize Winner's Final Days
“Empecé a volverme una mujer que va de las penas a las carcajadas sin ningún trámite, que siempre está esperando que algo le pase, lo que sea, menos las mañanas iguales. Odiaba la paz, me daba miedo”
Source: Arráncame la vida
“The business of life forces you to stay afloat when grief would just as soon let you drown.”
Source: The View from Mount Joy
“She carried something terrible with her. She kept her grief subdued and quiet – so much so, it had begun to rot.”
Source: The Lamb
“Retribution felt feeble, nowhere near enough to cover the cost of what had been lost. They were one soul split into two bodies. Often, Zara didn’t know where she ended and Savannah began.”
Source: The Invocations
“Inside the alone, a grief bird freed herself.
Never let anyone tell you your grief is an emptiness.
There is an alone inside grief, and it is yours, and the alone is both unbearable and simultaneously beautiful. Never let anyone tell you how long your grief should last, or what to do with it.”
Source: Reading the Waves: A Memoir
“Treat others with courtesy, and let that be your weapon on the journey to victory.”
Source: A Manual for Victory
“It was the last rage of a lost battle.”
Source: Atlas Shrugged
“This was the true miracle of life, he thought. Not so much to be born as to bear up under what comes your way. To find a way forward. To embrace what was good.”
Source: Good Dirt
“Mama is sad because Grandpa died,” my four-year-old daughter says to her cousin. “Died.” She knows the word “died.” She pulls tissues out of a box and hands them to me, and her emotional alertness moves, surprises, impresses me. A few days later, she asks, “When will Grandpa wake up again?”
I weep and weep and wish that her understanding of the world were real. That grief was not about the utter impossibility of return.”
Source: Notes on Grief