Quotes About Grieving The Loss Of A Mother

Quotes tagged as "grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother" (showing 1-6 of 6)
Cheryl Strayed
“I didn't get to grow up and pull away from her and bitch about her with my friends and confront her about the things I'd wished she'd done differently and then get older and understand that she had done the best she could and realize that what she had done was pretty damn good and take her fully back into my arms again. Her death had obliterated that. It had obliterated me. It had cut me short at the very heigh of my youthful arrogance. It had forced me to instantly grow up and forgive her every motherly fault at the same time that it kept me forever a child, my life both ended and begun in that premature place where we'd left off. She was my mother, but I was motherless. I was trapped by her, but utterly alone. She would always be the empty bowl that no one could full. I'd have to fill it myself again and again and again.”
Cheryl Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail

Donna Tartt
“It happened in New York, April 10th, nineteen years ago. Even my hand balks at the date. I had to push to write it down, just to keep the pen moving on the paper. It used to be a perfectly ordinary day, but now it sticks up on the calendar like a rusty nail.”
Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Barbara Blatner
“I could simply
kill you now,
get it over with,
who would
know the difference?
I could easily
kick you in, stove you
under, for all those times,
mean on gin,
you rammed words
into my belly. (p. 52)”
Barbara Blatner

Barbara Blatner
“oh.
she heard it
too-no waters
coursing, canyon
empty, sun
soundless-
and the beast
your life
nowhere
hiding (p. 103)”
Barbara Blatner, The Still Position: A Verse Memoir of My Mother's Death

Barbara Blatner
“blue-gold sky, fresh cloud,
emerald-black mountain, trees
on rocky ledges,

on the summit, the tiny pin
of a telephone tower-all

brilliantly clear,
in shadow and out.

and on and through
everything
everywhere
the sun shines
without reservation (p. 97)”
Barbara Blatner, The Still Position: A Verse Memoir of My Mother's Death

Barbara Blatner
“...gripping the
rim of the sink
you claw your
way to stand
and cling there,
quaking with
will, on
heron legs,
and still the hot
muck pours
out of you. (p. 27)”
Barbara Blatner, The Still Position: A Verse Memoir of My Mother's Death

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