Griefwriting Quotes

“people experience loss differently. I wonder which is worse – being prepared for it, even if it means suffering in a kind of twilight zone for months or even years, or suddenly being catapulted into the middle of your worst possible nightmare.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“. If grief had no cure, writing about it was at least a palliative.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“Then he was gone – just like that. His things were proof that he'd been there and a way of keeping him with me a little longer.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“When Aaron got sick twelve years ago and our whole world began to fall apart, I promised myself I would never forget the person he had been, but it was a promise I found hard to keep. He had a rare neurodegenerative disease that turned him into someone who, except for rare and treasured moments, was barely recognizable as the man I had been married to for almost my entire adult life. The illness first presented with personality and mood changes. Cognitive loss followed. Aaron had symptoms of almost every psychiatric problem I had ever heard of, including depression, paranoia, and obsessive compulsive disorder. He could be irrational and belligerent. He rarely slept and often insisted on leaving the house in the middle of the night to wander the streets. The circumspect and dignified man I married now acted out in public, sometimes attracting a crowd of curious observers or menacing passersby with his strange behavior. Aaron's illness was prolonged, and we lurched from crisis to crisis. My husband grew frail, developing medical complications and eventually life-threatening problems that resulted in frequent hospitalizations. I was exhausted, depressed, and overwhelmed. Through all of this, I sometimes got a glimpse of the old Aaron – loving, caring, and funny – and promised myself I would remember those moments. But, like my memories of him before he became ill, they kept slipping and sliding away as I scrambled to deal with each new crisis that arose. I suppose you might say I became a widow in stages.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“but I desperately miss being the most important person in the world to somebody. I was always that to you – and you, to me. I don't expect it to be like that again. Still, to know someone might think of me first thing when he wakes up in the morning – even that means a lot.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“Whatever happens, I'll just have to deal with it. I'm making a difference in his life now, and he's certainly making one in mine. There's no point in dwelling on what might or might not happen in the future.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“Losing a loved one from cancer, a heart attack, or even a bullet – it's not the same. With dementia, it's such a slow loss. Imagine what it must be like to watch a person you love disappear a little more each day. And then there's the strange and scary behavior. How can you . . .?” Uncertain of what else to say, her voice trailed off.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“The rules change when you're taking care of someone with dementia. I wrote about two even sadder – well, maybe not sadder, but more humiliating – incidents that I later described to a friend. And guess what? We laughed also. And you know why? Because there was nothing – absolutely nothing – else to do, short of tearing the hair off your head.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“It had been painful to witness the effects of Aaron's behavior on their grandchildren. For brief periods, he seemed happy to see them. He would stroke their hair and hold the younger ones on his lap, but these periods were interspersed with episodes of indifference and occasionally hostility. Her efforts to convince the grandchildren that Aaron really loved them had been exhausting. The bewildered and frightened looks on their faces had broken her heart.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“You know, there's nothing lonelier than being married to someone with dementia. You're married but alone. You have a spouse who's no longer a spouse. You feel dead, cut off from ordinary people and experiences. Just to be able to talk to someone who gets what you're going through is an enormous thing.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting

“Even more depressing was the realization that she was no longer the most important person in anyone's life. Among all of the staggering losses of widowhood, this was one of the most difficult to bear.”
― Joan Zlotnick, Griefwriting