I still miss those I loved who are no longer with me but I find I am grateful for having loved them. The gratitude has finally conquered the loss.
I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.
Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
One can choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances.
The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.
To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.
You will lose someone you can’t live without,and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
Copyright: Elisabeth Kubler-Ross Family Limited Partnership.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing...that is a friend who cares.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Friends share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent.
We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
When you are sorrowful, look again.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
A horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it. Death cannot kill what never dies.
In the night of death, hope sees a star, and listening love can hear the rustle of a wing.
We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of those depths.
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.
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