“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 every living creature. … But to grieve; it’s to die and be alive at the same time. The most absolute, overpowering experience you can feel, therefore. Sometimes I swear we weren’t constructed to go through such a thing; it’s too much – your body damn near self-destructs with all that heaving and surging. But I want to feel grief. To have tears…”
“Grief reunites you with what you have lost. It’s a merging; you go with the loved thing or person that’s going away. In some fashion you split with yourself and accompany it, go part of the way with it on its journey. You follow it as far as you can go.
… You cry, you continue to cry, because you don’t ever completely come back from where you went with him – a fragment broken off your pulsing, pumping heart is there still. A nick out of it. A cut that never heals. And if, when it happens to you over and over again, in life, too much of your heart does finally go away, then you can’t feel grief anymore. And then you yourself are ready to die. You’ll walk up the inclined ladder and someone else will remain behind grieving for you.”