Alexandra Bracken Quotes

Just because someone's dead doesn't mean it's over. My grandfather died more than 25 years ago, but I still think of him a lot and smell his smell.

Grief and memory go together. After someone dies, that's what you're left with. And the memories are so slippery yet so rich.

In my own life, I find myself doing some task - driving or playing golf - and having a conversation with my mother or father, who are both deceased. I don't know if that means I'm mentally ill, but I suspect lots of people do it. And when I hold that conversation, different images of my parents appear to me.

I suppose the things you remember about someone who has died are the funny moments. Those are the ones that stand out.

When it comes to my Uncle Jack, my father, or any other loved ones we've lost, I believe in honoring lives, not deaths.

Those that he loved so long and sees no more, Loved and still loves,-not dead, but gone before,- He gathers round him.

You think the dead we loved truly ever leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly in times of great trouble?

Our dead are never dead to us until we have forgotten them: they can be injured by us, they can be wounded; they know all our penitence, all our aching sense that their place is empty, all the kisses we bestow on the smallest relic of their presence.

Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother.

I admit that death is not just about you, it's also about the people who love you.

The littlest thing can have the strongest connection when you're grieving. Your Proustian, poetic nerve is turned up to ten.

When my dad died a lot of songs came, and they're still coming.

Not to be weird, but I still have an ongoing relationship with my mom, even though she passed away, and I've been surprised at how much I've been able to convey to her. Now I sound like a total weirdo, but that's true.

When my dad passed, there's a lot of sadness right below the surface, and I think there will be until the day I die. So, writing sad songs helps it. And when I sing them, it's pure therapy for me.

My son and daughter lost their father quite young, so we keep him present with us. It's just a daily practice.

It's very inconvenient because every time I finish, let's say, a chapter of a book, I think I'm going to ring Richard and then realize: Oh, Christ, I've buried him. I buried him last year.

To see him there lifeless and breathless was very emotional for me. But I held myself together because I knew he's very much alive in his spirit, and that was just a shell. But I kissed him on his forehead, and I hugged him, and I touched him and I said, 'Michael, I'll never leave you. You'll never leave me.'

I miss all of my old friends who have passed away. Sometimes you just don't understand why they were taken so soon. I loved and miss Johnny Cash. I miss my old buddy Johnny Paycheck, who happens to be buried in an area of the cemetery that I bought for my family.

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

Bereavement is terrible, of course. And when somebody you love dies, it's a time for reflection, a time for memory, a time for regret.

I figured out that I could think of my childhood dog that had died, and I could bring myself to tears. So I used that poor dead dog for several years until it just didn't work anymore, and I had to find something else.

When you lose someone, their memory lives on.

Any child who has lost a parent probably knows every single photograph in existence of that parent.

I used to watch 'Last Comic Standing' with my mom before she passed. So when I got that red envelope, I was extremely emotional.

My dad is never far from my thoughts. A place, a game, an incident somewhere or an unexpected word from someone can trigger a memory, which then triggers another, and suddenly I'm thinking about him, if only for a minute or two.