Normal, in our house, is like a blanket too short for a bed--sometimes it covers you just fine, and other times it leaves you cold and shaking; and worst of all, you never know which of the two it's going to be.
In the English language there are orphans and widows, but there is no word for the parents who loses a child.
Interpretation
What this quote means
The quote highlights the unique grief experienced by parents who lose a child, emphasizing the absence of a term to define their loss.
Jodi Picoult's quote addresses the profound and often overlooked sorrow of parents who have lost a child. While the English language has specific terms for many kinds of loss, it lacks a word for this tragedy, which signifies not only a linguistic gap but also reflects a societal inability to adequately recognize and address the pain of such loss. This emphasizes the need for greater empathy and understanding for those who endure this unimaginable heartbreak.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
During a support group meeting for bereaved parents, I shared this quote to illustrate the profound pain we all share.
More from Jodi Picoult
All quotes βWhether it was power they sought, or revenge, or love-well, those were all just different forms of hunger. The bigger the hole inside you, the more desperate you became to fill it.
she told me she'd be a phoenix." The image of the mythical creature rising from the ashes glitters in my mind. "They don't really exist." "She said that depends on whether or not there's someone who can see them.
for 100,000 (dollars), you [can] flatten a house with a wrecking ball. Imagine how much less it [takes] to destroy something than it [does] to build it in the first place.
But if you seek forgiveness, doesn't that automatically mean you cannot be a monster? By definition, doesn't that desperation make you human again?
when you [lose someone], it feels like the hole in your gum when a tooth falls out. You can chew, you can eat, you have plenty of other teeth, but your tongue keeps going back to that empty place, where all nerves are still a little raw
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She went from opera, park, assembly, play,_x000D_ _x000D_ To morning walks, and prayers three hours a day._x000D_ _x000D_ To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea,_x000D_ _x000D_ To muse, and spill her solitary tea,_x000D_ _x000D_ Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,_x000D_ _x000D_ Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon.
Dear God," she prayed, "let me be something every minute of every hour of my life. Let me be gay; let me be sad. Let me be cold; let me be warm. Let me be hungry...have too much to eat. Let me be ragged or well dressed. Let me be sincere - be deceitful. Let me be truthful; let me be a liar. Let me be honorable and let me sin. Only let me be something every blessed minute. And when I sleep, let me dream all the time so that not one little piece of living is ever lost.
I really would like to be involved in things and to understand things, and in some ways you've got to be careful what you wish for because I feel very, very blessed to have such an interesting life and to be able to have little snapshots of lives of people from many different parts of the world.
My dear, dear girl [. . .] we can't turn back the days that have gone. We can't turn life back to the hours when our lungs were sound, our blood hot, our bodies young. We are a flash of fire--a brain, a heart, a spirit. And we are three-cents-worth of lime and iron--which we cannot get back.
I enjoy life when things are happening. I don't care if it's good things or bad things. That means you're alive.