424 Quotes About Death-of-a-loved-one

this loss feels like an ache between my ribs it’s sad and scary but softand steady it’s always there humming loudlybeneath it all beneath it allsometimesit rests andjust whispersssshhhhhhhhit only takes one moment of missing you to make it roar

We may try to run away from grief and escape its terrible clutches. Perhaps we immerse ourselves in work or other activities. We busy ourselves and refuse to look back over our shoulder. Grief will follow us. It will hide around the corner so in that moment when our activity lulls, grief will pounce. Grief will never leave until it is defeated.

Tears are another river that takes us home. We become alive with tears. There isn’t a chance to return to sleep when we are weeping.

It was the sound of a thousand hungry children crying, ten thousand widows tearing their hair over their husband's graves, a chorus of angels singing the last dirge on the day of God's death.

Pray, hum, and give a ferocious hug to the ones you love most. You never know when you might want that hug with all your soul, and not be able to give it or get it.

Rather often I am asked whether the grief remains as intense as when I wrote. The answer is, No. The wound is no longer raw. But it has not disappeared. That is as it should be. If he was worth loving, he is worth grieving over.Grief is existential testimony to the worth of the one loved. That worth abides. So I own my grief. I do not try to put it behind me, to get over it, to forget it… Every lament is a love-song.

But I guess death is like that. It takes away from you in an instant the people you've cherished for a whole lifetime. Just like that. As simple as that. And you are suddenly left with two things: anger for having been deprived of your beloved for no reason at all; and emptiness, a vacuum that gnaws right at your heart where all the joyful moments once had been.

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

I walked in the garden of life, caressing soft petals here and there. And lo! After a while they were no more, and my heart bled for each fragrant petal that fell. If every flower withers, never to return to its full blossom, then what good indeed is passing by in the garden of life? Herein lies my hope: That for every flower that withers, another one blooms, one that will remain forever fragrant and fresh, never ever to pass away…