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Grief And Loss Quotes

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Grief And Loss Quotes

“Hamlet doesn't fully see that his metaphysical miseries constitute a subliminal symptom of grief; and this was exactly my case. I thought I was sick, I thought I was dying (maybe that is what bereavement actually asks of you). Literature gives us these warnings about the main events, but we don't recognize the warnings until the events have come and gone. Isabel, my senior in the loss of a sibling, told me that you just have to take it, like weather—yes, like sleet in your face.”

“How odd that we spend so much time treating the darkness, and so little time seeking the light. The ego loves to glorify itself by self-analysis, yet we do not get rid of darkness by hitting it with a baseball bat. We only get rid of darkness by turning on the light.”

“The intensity of my grief hits the mountains across Eclipse Sound, and then echoes throughout Arctic. There’s nobody around. I can barely see the town below the hill, nestled within the valley of barren tundra, across from the tiny airport, my only access to the south. I’m alone amidst this desolate landscape and there’s nowhere to hide. No trees or buildings or distractions. It’s just me in the depths of my suffering and all my faults and mistakes of the past are exposed underneath the spotlight of the midnight sun.”

“Heart Rings What stories would our bones tell if they had rings like trees? circles marking the times when you felt loved when you were in love when you grieved when you did something that required every last ounce of your courage when you were full of faith — That is how our hearts work a lone, rhythmic documentarian chronicling your life in the shadow of your flesh mysterious even to its owner And someday we might learn that it was drawing a map for the soul to navigate the real final frontier”

“He hardly looks like the same man I knew. My hand trembles as it touches his hair, the only part of him that escaped the brutality of Lysander. His hair is no less golden now that he is dead. A single sob comes out of me, followed by tears and silence. Cassius had a heart like Eo, though it took him longer to find it. I wish he’d found it sooner. I don’t know how long I stand there thinking not of the past but all the life he had yet to live now that he’d become the man I always hoped he would be.”

“Your smile and your laughter lit my whole world.”

“The work [of grieving] is not to remain unbroken by love and grief but to remain there, in the great brokenness, with your eyes and your heart open, refusing to look away. There is no need to transcend being human. Liberation is to be found in listening to yourself deeply and with kindness, extending the same respect to all beings. The road to a more just and equitable world begins with listening to pain. [Megan Devine, Foreward]”

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

“She’d have liked to say that she hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone, but that wouldn’t have been quite truthful. She’d wanted to hurt everyone, to make them feel what she felt, or even just not to be alone in it. In the wake of her loss, she’d longed to throw away everything she’d worked for, just to undo the agonizing truth that she could not accept.”

“She had wanted to break. She had wanted, for one desperate moment, to let herself shatter into a thousand pieces, to reach out and fall apart. She knew he would have been there, welcomed that. But she was afraid that if she broke, she would not know how to put herself back together. So she had stopped it. When the cracks were spreading just wide enough for everything to crumble, Ari had sealed them back up, pulled herself together, and moved on.”

“The Lingerer by Stewart Stafford Another lonely start, O shadow companion, My twin bereft of heart, On grief’s stormy galleon. Each step disbelief, Strangers pass in proximity, In motion an artist’s relief, Abstract as infinity. The quickening pulse of streets, Tears on cheeks reflective, This scarred heart missing beats, Damaged and defective. Home now just where memory sits, Perspective greatly shifted, This shapeless form no longer fits, The body it was gifted. And if, my love, you see me now, I beg you, look away, Love’s blush departed with a bow, Then withered and decayed. © Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”

“Though it’s reasons to burn may vary... you are always the fuel of my fire.”

“She ran her fingers over the smooth stone and then tilted her head to look up at the sky, breathing slowly, as if she could smell and taste the stars in her lungs and on her tongue. They would be cool, she imagined, and crisp before breaking sweet under her teeth, like a honeycomb cracking open to ooze out its golden-yellow syrup. Dav had liked to think of touching the stars, of one day rising to live among them, but never had they considered together how they would taste. She shut her eyes. She wished she could ask him and wondered, like she did every night, what he would think of her now.”

“Carrie knew, that in a few years, the memories would begin to fade. She might forget whether her father had spilled mustard or ketchup. She might lose the ability to recall the exact smell of Wind Song. She might even forget about the reading glasses altogether after a while, as much as it pained her to admit it. She knew that she could not sustain her life fuelled only by the memories of those she once loved. Loss would not propel her forward. She had to go out and live. She had to find new people.”

“If we can’t feel into the heart of grief, we can’t truly move on to experience hope and joy. We can’t be present to what is now, and what is next, because we are bound by the loss and sorrow that holds us to the past. Grief has to flow. It has to be carried, not just by you, but by the others with you, by your community, until it transforms to the next rightful calling of your heart to action.”

“Though these words will never find you, I hope that you knew I was thinking of you today….. and that I was wishing you every happiness. Love Always, The girl you loved once.”

“When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...”

“And there I lie in these damned bandages for a week. And there he lies, swathed up too, like a little mummy. And never crying. But now I like raking him in my arms and looking at him. A lovely forehead, incredibly white, the eyebrows drawn very faintly in gold dust... Well, this was a funny time. (The big bowl of coffee in the morning with a pattern of red and blue flowers. I was always so thirsty.) But uneasy, uneasy... Ought a baby to be as pretty as this, as pale as this, as silent as this? The other babies yell from morning to night. Uneasy... When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them off you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them off there is not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease. And there he is, lying with a ticket tied around his wrist because he died in a hospital. And there I am looking down at him, without one line, without one wrinkle, without one crease...”

“I write what I love. I will not stop – even when my hand hurts…. …. because I cannot stop – even though my heart hurts….”

“Perhaps ... To R.A.L. Perhaps some day the sun will shine again, And I shall see that still the skies are blue, And feel one more I do not live in vain, Although bereft of you. Perhaps the golden meadows at my feet, Will make the sunny hours of spring seem gay, And I shall find the white May-blossoms sweet, Though You have passed away. Perhaps the summer woods will shimmer bright, And crimson roses once again be fair, And autumn harvest fields a rich delight, Although You are not there. But though kind Time may many joys renew, There is one greatest joy I shall not know Again, because my heart for loss of You Was broken, long ago.”