No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.
At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world and me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another and not to me.
Mots clés fear loss loneliness mourning grief afraid restlessness
Good Madonna, why mournest thou?
Good Fool, for my brother's death.
I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.
I know his soul is in heaven, Fool.
The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.
When all that's left of me is love,
Give me away.
Mots clés mourning see-you-at-harry-s
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.
Mots clés mourning death-of-a-loved-one
We carry the dead with us only until we die too, and then it is we who are borne along for a little while, and then our bearers in their turn drop, and so on into the unimaginable generations.
John BanvilleMots clés acceptance loss death sorrow mourning memory grief immortality life-goes-on
...The heart mourns people and places and returns to them in dreams...
John GeddesMots clés dreams mourning people-and-places
You left ground and sky weeping,
mind and soul full of grief.
No one can take your place in existence,
or in absence. Both mourn, the angels, the prophets,
and this sadness I feel has taken from me
the taste of language, so that I cannot say
the flavor of my being apart.
To whom can I put this question (with any hope of an answer)? Does being able to live without someone you loved mean you loved her less than you thought... ?
Roland BarthesDon't say mourning. It's too psychoanalytic. I'm not mourning. I'm suffering.
Roland BarthesAn explosion in space makes no sound at all.
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