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| Undo it, take it back, make every day the previous one until I am returned to the day before the one that made you gone. Or set me on an airplane traveling west, crossing the date line again and again, losing this day, then that, until the day of loss still lies ahead, and you are here instead of sorrow. � Nessa Rapoport, in A Woman's Book of Grieving |
| Someone asked me about you today. It's been so long since anyone has done that. It felt so good to talk about you, to share my memories of you, to simply say your name out loud. She asked me if I minded talking about what happened to you � or would it be too painful to speak of it. I told her I think of it every day and speaking about it helps me to release the tormented thoughts whirling around in my head. She said she never realized the pain would last this long. She apologized for not asking sooner. I told her, "Thanks for asking." I don't know if it was curiosity or concern that made her ask, But told her, "Please do it again sometime � soon." � Barbara Taylor Hudson |
| A family has been described as a group of people whose trouble is that the youngsters grow out of childhood, but the parents never grow out of parenthood. How true that is, and how painful when one is a grandparent whose grandchild has died. Grandparents carry dreadful burdens that are frequently never mentioned. When a child dies, grandparents bear the grief of the death of a loved boy or girl compounded by the pain of watching their own adult child, the dead child�s parent, writhe in an agony they are powerless to ease. It is a double grief. � Harriet Sarnoff Schiff, in Living through Mourning |
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