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

when you died, the spark of your life flew into me when I watched your breath stop, and the spark did its last energy frizz inside of me and I didn't tell anyone but half of the lights of myself went off as well. Almost every door in me closed too. Most of the space, where you used to tread, to rest, to read, to sleep, most of that space closed up for good. I became a house with only the porch light on.

The trivial memory will remain trivial until a loved one dies. Then that triviality becomes a miracle. It becomes that beacon of hope that we didn't think we would ever feel again. We begin to replace No Way to What if?

We can recognize our loved ones without our eyes. We can feel them through our senses. We can learn to recognize our gift of intuition that we all have but seldom ever trust.

Ellie scrutinized her memories of Trevor. There were no clues, no warnings, that hinted at his violent death. If lives were books, his final chapter came too soon and belonged to a different genre.

તું સારી રીતે જાણે છે, કે અસ્તિત્વ વિશે મારો વિચાર ન તો દેહ સાથે જોડાયેલો છે, ન તો આ જગત સાથે. તું જેને પ્રેમ કરે છે એ રિબેકા કદી નહીં મરે. આ નહીં તો કોઈ અન્ય સ્વરૂપમાં, આ સ્થળે નહીં તો ક્યાંક બીજે, તે સદાય જીવંત જ રહેવાની. મને ખબર છે, કે તને બીજાં કોઈ વિશ્વમાં અને બીજાં કોઈ સ્વરૂપમાં શ્રદ્ધા બેસતી નથી. તારે મને અહીંયાં, આ જ વિશ્વમાં પામવી છે. આ નાશવંત જીવનમાં, આ નાશવંત દેહમાં અને આ નાશવંત ક્ષણોમાં. પણ, તું મારાં પર વિશ્વાસ રાખજે, કે હું સદાય જીવંત જ છું, મારું ચૈતન્ય કદી નહીં મરે.

If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.

Maybe the secret truth about death is that dead people are whisked away from their current lives and forced to live somewhere else far away—a process similar to reincarnation but taking place not in the future but now. A sort of mortality-based witness protection program. And if you found them they would look the same as they always had. If only you knew where to find them. If only you knew where to look.

The sharpest image I hold from that day are the shiny nailheads in the wood, where someone overdone the hammering to shut the wood-slat crate they sent my brother home in. A note came attached, stiff with condolences from Mr. Mercer, the Estelle Mining owner. Other scrawled words said the company believed they’d recovered most of my brother from the explosion but warned us not to open the lid and check.

To recognize the signs and symbols from our loved ones from beyond, we must be fully present, aware, and in-the-moment with them when they are alive.