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The only language she could speak was grief. how could he not know that? instead, she said, "i love you." she did. she loved him. but even that didn't feel like anything anymore.
-Ann Hood
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The Only Language She Could Speak Was

Ann Hood
The only language she could speak was grief. how could he not know that? instead, she said, "i love you." she did. she loved him. but even that didn't feel like anything anymore.
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Grief Love You Language

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Grief causes you to leave yourself. you step outside your narrow little pelt. and you can’t feel grief unless you’ve had love before it - grief is the final outcome of love, because it’s love lost. […] it’s the cycle of love completed: to love, to lose, to feel grief, to leave, and then to love again. grief is the awareness that you will have to be alone, and there is nothing beyond that because being alone is the ultimate final destiny of each individual living creature. that’s what death is, the great loneliness.
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This may sound like heresy, but it is the greatest truth! it is more difficult to let god love us, than to love him! the best way to love him in return is to open our hearts and let him love us. let him draw close to us and feel him close to us. this is really very difficult: letting ourselves be loved by him. and that is perhaps what we need to ask today in the mass: 'lord, i want to love you, but teach me the difficult science, the difficult habit of letting myself be loved by you, to feel you close and feel your tenderness ! may the lord give us this grace.
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In the nineteenth year and the eleventh month speak your tattered kaddish for all suicides: praise to life though it crumbled in like a tunnel on ones we knew and loved praise to life though its windows blew shut on the breathing-room of ones we knew and loved praise to life though ones we knew and loved loved it badly, too well, and not enough praise to life though it tightened like a knot on the hearts of ones we thought we knew loved us praise to life giving room and reason to ones we knew and loved who felt unpraisable. praise to them, how they loved it, when they could.
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Grief is real because loss is real. each grief has its own imprint, as distinctive and as unique as the person we lost. the pain of loss is so intense, so heartbreaking, because in loving we deeply connect with another human being, and grief is the reflection of the connection that has been lost. we think we want to avoid the grief, but really it is the pain of the loss we want to avoid. grief is the healing process that ultimately brings us comfort in our pain. copyright: elisabeth kubler-ross family limited partnership.
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I don't think grief of grief in a medical way at all. i think that i and many of my colleagues, are very concerned when grief becomes pathological, that there is no question that grief can trigger depression in vulnerable people and there is no question that depression can make grief worse.
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"oh, you want too much!" she cried to gatsby. "i love you now - isn't that enough? i can't help what's past." she began to sob helplessly. "i did love him once-but i loved you too." gatsby's eyes opened and closed. "you loved me too?" he repeated. "even that's a lie," said tom savagely. "she didn't know you were alive. why - there're things between daisy and me that you'll never know, things that neither of us can ever forget."
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