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Grief And Loss Quotes

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Grief And Loss Quotes

“We always tell ourselves that the people we love will be around forever, until one day—they aren’t anymore. And I know you’re missing them right now. That it feels like a visceral ache, deep within a part of yourself you did not know existed until the day you lost them. So today, I hope you remember that they live on within you, not just in your heart—but in the way you infuse their care and kindness into everything you do. In the way you take risks, knowing that tomorrow is not promised In the way you so courageously stay open to new possibilities, even when you feel like you simply can’t keep going. In the way you continue to love so fiercely and purely, despite knowing the terror and grief of loss. I hope you remember that even when you lose someone you love, the love you shared lives on. Their love is always with you. They are still with you.”

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Author:Kirsten Robinson
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“I feel like I have lost myself. I want to find the “Me” that went away with you. The part of me that loved so unceasingly without condition. The part of me that loved the way you taught me how to love. The part of me that felt more real than I ever felt before. No one seems to find that “Me” and I can’t find Me either.”

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Book:Only Gone From Your Sight: Jack McAfghan's Little Therapy Guide to Pet Loss and Grief
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“Ari could feel it in her chest like an unwanted heartbeat, the sound of a broken soul thrumming unevenly, desperately against her own. As they locked in battle, she could hear it all, every beat. It was the same way it felt to have Jagger’s heart in hers, and yet so different. Their soul sounded like stuttering, like something had died and grown back wrong.”

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Book:A Vision in Smoke
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“Teardrop Swarm by Stewart Stafford Entombed by verdant prison bars, On land where I once held sway, Drowned in Death's tearful surf, In which we all get swept away. Weep at a rock bearing my name, A vacant space once familiar there, Lost and lingered in limbo longing, Planted in pastures, green and fair. Arch headstones are defiant cliffs, For Reaper's wrath to crash upon, A foundling rage's pristine triumph, In foam white light, multitudes gone. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved.”

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Author:Stewart Stafford
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“The smell of flowers was overwhelming, and it reminded me of walking into a flower shop to pick the perfect bouquet when my gran died. It wasn’t a good memory, and the smell was intoxicating. My heart broke while looking at the beautiful variations of flowers and smelling the sweet nectar. It was a terrible mix. The beauty, the nature, the colors, and the smell—all laced with grief. And what I could never comprehend was that flowers were for every occasion. You get them when you’re in love and when it’s your birthday; you can get them with a new job or a raise. And how is it supposed to make you feel when all you can remember is the smell of heartbreak, and it takes you back to that space in time? It doesn’t feel like a celebration of anything, but more like torture. Torture of the mind and soul.”

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Book:Dark Reflections
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“When a person you love dies, the calendar becomes a minefield. Anyone who has lost someone knows this. There is the loved one’s birthday. One’s own Birthday. Various national and religious holidays, if one is religious. All of these days are difficult in their own ways. But the anniversary is different. On the anniversary of the loved one’s death, you slip backward through time to this same day, one, five, ten years ago. You live it all over again, minute by minute.”

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Book:Saint X
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“I think about swimming with him into that cave, about the swell of clear water, the way it changed, the swiftness and power it gained as it narrowed through the rocks at the base of the point. The tide had to be just right. We had to be in the water at the very moment the tide was right. We could only have done this a half dozen times at most during the two years we lived there but it is what I remember. Each time we did it I was afraid of missing the swell, hanging back, timing it wrong. He never was. You had to feel the swell change. You had to go with the change. He told me that. No eye is on the sparrow but he did tell me that.”

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Book:The Year of Magical Thinking: The Play
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“Mama, I said, and then the crying came. I had not cried since I was sentenced and I had humiliated myself before a judge who didn't care. On that horrible day, my snotty sobbing had merged with Celestial and Olive's morning accompaniment. Now I suffered a cappella; the weeping burned my throat like when you vomit strong liquor. That one word, Mama, was my only prayer as I phrased on the ground like I was feeling the Holy Ghost, only what I was going through wasn't rapture. I spasmed on that cold black earth in pain, physical pain. My joints hurt; I experienced what felt like a baton against the back of my head. It was like I relived every injury of my life.. The pain went on until it didn't. and I say up, dirty and spent.”

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Book:An American Marriage
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“To speak of ‘trying again’ while her ghost was still in the room was an insult to both the child gone before and the child that might come after. The child before might be merely a precursor, a practice run, a whole person deemed sufficiently remembered and loved; while the child after might be a bandaid child, a second child, a replacement child. Without time taken to wait – not until the first child was forgotten but until the hideous burning fire of grief had dulled – neither child could be fully a person, but just a function of the other.”

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Book:The Paper House
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“In the months that followed my mother's death, I managed to look like a normal person. I walked the street; I answered my phone; I brushed my teeth; most of the time. But I was not OK. I was in grief. Nothing seemed important. Daily tasks were exhausting. Dishes piled in the sink, knives crusted with strawberry jam. At one point I did not wash my hair for ten days. I felt that I had abruptly arrived at a terrible, insistent truth about the impermanence of everyday.”

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Book:The Long Goodbye
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“My grief reminds me what is dear to my heart by what is no longer to be. Loss is a part of the movement of change, and the grief that accompanies loss is necessary in order to let the movement of change flow through. Tears are like a river releasing to open waters.”

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Book:ChangeAbility: How artists activists and awakeners navigate change
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