Kristina McMorris Quotes

I was slapped down to the ground when my son Wade died in 1996, in April of 1996.

When friends and lovers die and your world gets quieter; that's when the silence comes closer; that's when next isn't the least bit theoretical or abstract.

When the baby dies, On every side Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud. The baby was not wrapped in any shroud. The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed That men's eyes might not see Her misery.

Grief changes shape, but it never ends.

I had to go on without my mother, even though I was suffering terribly, grieving her.

The war has carried mourning into almost every home … it can almost be said that the heavens are hung in black

I lost my husband, and it's a horrific thing to live through.

I done been to so many funerals.

A fundamental and unfortunate part of being alive is to suffer loss and to suffer grief.

Cancer has been a dark thread that has run throughout my life. It's taken my friends, my parents. My beautiful son.

After Balasaheb died, I have not spoken. What do I say?

Loss is very painful, because any kind of loss leaves a hole in the fabric of one's existence.

What shall a man say when a friend has vanished behind the doors of Death? A mere tangle of barren words, only words.

Grief does not end and love does not die and nothing fills its graven place. With grace, pain is transmuted into the gold of wisdom and compassion and the lesser coin of muted sadness and resignation; but something leaden of it remains, to become the kernel arond which more pain accretes (a black pearl): one pain becomes every other pain ... unless one strips away, one by one, the layers of pain to get to the heart of the pain - and this causes more pain, pain so intense as to feel like evisceration.

When someone dies, it is like when your house burns down; it isn't for years that you realize the full extent of your loss.

At the temple there is a poem called "Loss" carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.

To have your niece die in your arms is the greatest gift from god.

She died on a windy gray day in March when the sky was full of darting crows and the world lay prostrate and defeated after winter. Peter Lake was at her side and it ruined him forever. It broke him as he had not ever imagined he could have been broken. He would never again be young, or able to remember what it was like to be young. What he had once taken to be pleasures would appear to him in his defeat as hideous and deserved punishments for reckless vanity.

In grief, words are a poor consolation - silence and agonizing tears are all that is left the sufferer.

There's a fine edge to new grief, it severs nerves, disconnects reality--there's mercy in a sharp blade. Only with time, as the edge wears, does the real ache begin.

Loss takes up inside of everything sooner or later and eats right through it.

When my father died, I was living in England. It was very traumatic that he died when I was away.

I think any time we lose people, it's a hard moment.

We are all victims because of the circumstances, but I'm not sure what to say to any one who has lost a loved one. I know the feeling myself, and words just don't do much to ease the pain.

Nobody can prepare you for the loss of a parent.