death-of-a-child

Although it's great to appear to a feast, home is always sweet, though it may be lonely and cold like death

The dead only knows their world.

There is one invisible bridge for every one of us and death is the first step of it. On this side, there is life where there are questions and fear but on that other side of that bridge, there is a whole new world full of answers and peace.

Will my eyes adjust to this darkness? Will I find you in the dark _ not in the streaks of light which remain, but in the darkness? Has anyone ever found you there? Did they love what they saw? Did they see love? And are there songs for singing when the light has gone dim? Or in the dark, is it best to wait in silence?Noon has darkened. As fast as they could say, __e__ dead,_ the light dimmed. And where are you in the darkness? I learned to spy you in the light. Here in this darkness, I cannot find you. If I had never looked for you, or looked but never found, I would not feel this pain of your absence. Or is not your absence in which I dwell, but your elusive troubling presence?It__ the neverness that is so painful. Never again to be here with us _ never to sit with us at the table_. All the rest of our lives we must live without him. Only our death can stop the pain of his death.

I was ravenous for my child and took to gorging myself in the boneyard, hoping that she might possibly meet me halfway, or just beyond, one night, if only for an instant__tep back into her own bare feet, onto the wet grass or fallen leaves or snowy ground of the living Enon, so that we could share just one last human word.

Just as it is impossible to explain childbirth to a woman who has never given birth, it is impossible to explain child loss to a person who has never lost a child.

The greatest loss is the loss of life.

The whole encounter was surreal. No one had mentioned cancer. I hadn__ requested special treatment for Jacob. Yet he__ just nabbed a private meeting with an actor from his favorite movie. I would later ask Mike, the comic book store owner, what had prompted him to invite Jacob to the supper and a private meeting with Mr. Bulloch.__t was Jeremy at the door. He recognized something in Jacob. Jeremyis a cancer survivor.

The sorrow we feel when we lose a loved one is the price we pay to have had them in our lives.

Marlena's body was found on November 19, and so I consider that the anniversary of her death, though she almost certainly died on the eighteenth. Because for me, that day, she was still fully, hugely, annoyingly alive--deliberately ignoring my phone calls, up to something she'd no doubt tell me all about soon.Twelve days after November 19, I turned sixteen. Every year, it happens the same way: Marlena dies, I get older.

But the truth is, the ten or twenty minutes I was somebody__ mother were black magic. There is no adventure I would trade them for; there is no place I would rather have seen. -Thanksgiving in Mongolia, The New Yorker, November 18, 2013 Issue

Time is life.Time for birth, time for death.

I live nearby a graveyard, that's where I get all my inspiration for wisdom and life

Each man lives in his own universe and when he dies the world is over

The graveyard is the everlasting home of every man.

My arms are empty without you!My heart cries out, lonely in the darkness, but you are not here.No tears shall bring you back into my arms again.My mothers love was not strong enough to keep you,but it is strong enough to follow and find you, though all the mists of Eternity should try to come between!

Dreams, just dreams, it's all illusion

We all want to become more than we are, we want to live forever, that is why we hate death and create the afterlife.