Citações na Categoria 'death-of-a-child'

We all want to become more than we are, we want to live forever, that is why we hate death and create the afterlife.

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Dreams, just dreams, it's all illusion

My arms are empty without you!My heart cries out, lonely in the darkness, but you are not here.No tears shall bring you back into my arms again.My mothers love was not strong enough to keep you,but it is strong enough to follow and find you, though all the mists of Eternity should try to come between!

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The graveyard is the everlasting home of every man.

Each man lives in his own universe and when he dies the world is over

I live nearby a graveyard, that's where I get all my inspiration for wisdom and life

Time is life.Time for birth, time for death.

But the truth is, the ten or twenty minutes I was somebody’s mother were black magic. There is no adventure I would trade them for; there is no place I would rather have seen. -Thanksgiving in Mongolia, The New Yorker, November 18, 2013 Issue

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The sorrow we feel when we lose a loved one is the price we pay to have had them in our lives.

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The greatest loss is the loss of life.

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Marlena's body was found on November 19, and so I consider that the anniversary of her death, though she almost certainly died on the eighteenth. Because for me, that day, she was still fully, hugely, annoyingly alive--deliberately ignoring my phone calls, up to something she'd no doubt tell me all about soon.Twelve days after November 19, I turned sixteen. Every year, it happens the same way: Marlena dies, I get older.

death loss grief growing-older death-of-a-friend death-of-a-child childhood-loss

The whole encounter was surreal. No one had mentioned cancer. I hadn’t requested special treatment for Jacob. Yet he’d just nabbed a private meeting with an actor from his favorite movie. I would later ask Mike, the comic book store owner, what had prompted him to invite Jacob to the supper and a private meeting with Mr. Bulloch.“It was Jeremy at the door. He recognized something in Jacob. Jeremyis a cancer survivor.

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Just as it is impossible to explain childbirth to a woman who has never given birth, it is impossible to explain child loss to a person who has never lost a child.

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I was ravenous for my child and took to gorging myself in the boneyard, hoping that she might possibly meet me halfway, or just beyond, one night, if only for an instant—step back into her own bare feet, onto the wet grass or fallen leaves or snowy ground of the living Enon, so that we could share just one last human word.

death grief death-of-a-child

Will my eyes adjust to this darkness? Will I find you in the dark – not in the streaks of light which remain, but in the darkness? Has anyone ever found you there? Did they love what they saw? Did they see love? And are there songs for singing when the light has gone dim? Or in the dark, is it best to wait in silence?Noon has darkened. As fast as they could say, ‘He’s dead,’ the light dimmed. And where are you in the darkness? I learned to spy you in the light. Here in this darkness, I cannot find you. If I had never looked for you, or looked but never found, I would not feel this pain of your absence. Or is not your absence in which I dwell, but your elusive troubling presence?It’s the neverness that is so painful. Never again to be here with us – never to sit with us at the table…. All the rest of our lives we must live without him. Only our death can stop the pain of his death.

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There is one invisible bridge for every one of us and death is the first step of it. On this side, there is life where there are questions and fear but on that other side of that bridge, there is a whole new world full of answers and peace.

philosophy death magic life-philosophy death-and-dying death-of-a-loved-one death-quotes death-of-a-child

The dead only knows their world.

Although it's great to appear to a feast, home is always sweet, though it may be lonely and cold like death

She wondered how to mourn the death of a son who wasn't dead. And yet the loss of separation made that easy. The idea of pain made pain, where she knew none could possibly truly exist.

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Pram wasn't told the story of her birth. But even as a very small girl, she felt deep in her chest that she was alive and dead at the same time.

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It's a harrowing experience to see death approaching in haste towards you, what is hell but confronting your own mortality

...when your child dies, you feel everything you'd expect to feel, feelings so well-documented by so many others that I won't even bother to list them here, except to say that everything that's written about mourning is all the same, and it's all the same for a reason - because there is no read deviation from the text. Sometimes you feel more of one thing and less of another, and sometimes you feel them out of order, and sometimes you feel them for a longer time or a shorter time. But the sensations are always the same.But here's what no one says - when it's your child, a part of you, a very tiny but nonetheless unignorable part of you, also feels relief. Because finally, the moment you have been expecting, been dreading, been preparing yourself for since the day you became a parent, has come.Ah, you tell yourself, it's arrived. Here it is.And after that, you have nothing to fear again.

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The world slides, the world goes, and death makes equal the rich and the poor

Though we are terrorized by death, it's not different from birth, it just happens

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We die a day at a time

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Death pulls people from our spaces so often and we accept it as our final payment for having been here and having lived, however big or small. We don’t always have time to notice how things have changed in the absence of some of them. But then death pulls away someone we love, and we find that time. In here, we notice everything; growing grass and fingernails, and songs that end in a minor key. We are too sad to do anything else but watch a clock, applying seconds, minutes, and hours to the trauma and the lacerations. Time, the forever healer, they say. We find the time to wonder how everyone else is moving on, around our paralyzed selves. Ourselves unsure of roads and trees and birds and things. It all blurs and words aren’t words anymore. We find the time to attempt to figure a way to rethink everything we thought about this world and why we came to it.

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