Grief Experience Quotes

Most people think that a widow is inhabiting some elegiac world of - it's like Mozart's 'Requiem Mass.' You know, it's very beautiful and elevated thoughts and some measure of dignity. I didn't have that experience at all. I had one pratfall after another.

I've never lost a grown-up child, but I have known loss.

Grief is exhausting. When you learn - maybe through my age or experience - trying to harness the energy, whatever it is, muted energy or a concentration to find yourself in a place? You try to use it for when it's really necessary and can arrive.

I realized, year of the tiger was 1974, which was the year my father passed away when I was a kid... My family, at that point, were Christian Scientists. So basically, this woman Mary Baker Eddy started this in the 1800s, and the premise is that you don't go to doctors. You believe that God is gonna heal you.

In youth one has tears without grief; in age, griefs without tears

Deem no man happy until he passes the edo fhis life without suffering grief.

I was very close to my mother, and her death, which left a gaping hole in my life, has been very difficult for me and my father in a lot of ways.

I was 11 when my father died, so I didn't know my father so well.

Grief is like a bomber circling round and dropping its bombs each time the circle brings it overhead; physical pain is like the steady barrage on a trench in World War One, hours if it with no let-up for a moment. Thought is never static pain often is... is it not yet enough?

The supreme ordeal, let us say rather, the only ordeal, is the loss of the beloved being.

My mother's death was the defining moment of my life.

The end of a marriage has got to be one of the saddest events one can experience. I’ve heard that the pain [of divorce] is second only to an actual death in the family, and that sounds about right.

I rarely get recognized, and whenever I do, it has to do with 'The Leftovers' because it came into someone's life at a particularly important time for them - if they were dealing with grief or loss or whatever tragedy - and they just caught it. And there is no rhyme or reason to the kind of person it is.

Grief is a room without doors - but somehow, with its tinsel and cliches, Christmas finds a way in.

I don't believe that grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story. But grief and griever alike endure.

In the early to mid-'90s, everywhere I turned, someone had died. It wasn't just people in bands. It was the people I was hanging out with. At some point, I thought, 'I may be heading down that road.'

The Westwood Cemetery is just a few blocks from my home, and a number of my very dear friends are buried there.

My mom lost her dad at a very young age, and has this sort of belief system of, you know, "If there's something that you want to do, if there's something that means a lot to you, do it now."

There is no such thing as closure, and it wouldn't be worth having if it were available, because all it would mean is that something that was quite an important part of you had gone numb.

When my mom passed, it hit us hard. She was the glue that held our family together.

The longer one lives in this hard world motherless, the more a mother's loss makes itself felt.

The interesting thing about grief, I think, is that it is its own size. It is not the size of you. It is its own size. And grief comes to you.

Dad passed away in 2000, but he visits me all the time. He comes to me in different ways. So I have that connection with him, and that comforts me, to know that in time I can come back and still have that with my kids. It's not unfamiliar to me, that connection with the afterlife. I know it's real; I experience it all the time.

Before my mum passed away, I was a very extroverted person; I was very outgoing. I didn't care what people thought about me.

Accidents happen, whether they're car accidents, friendly fire, drug overdoses. Accidents happen, and they're tragic. It's like a bomb that goes off and pieces of shrapnel rip into the flesh of the family. It's the families that need the compassion, because everywhere they walk, every day, someone reminds them of their loss.