The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of

In the tender and eternal words of Russell M. Nelson, a man of faith and healing, there shines a truth that pierces through the veil between life and death: “The only way to take sorrow out of death is to take love out of life.” These words carry the weight of both human experience and divine wisdom. They remind us that sorrow and love are twins, born of the same heart — that grief, though bitter, is the shadow cast by love’s brilliance. For one cannot mourn what one has never loved, and one cannot love deeply without, in time, tasting the sorrow that love’s loss brings.

The origin of this quote flows from both Nelson’s faith and his long life as a physician and spiritual leader. Having stood beside the beds of the dying, he learned firsthand that no science, no power, no wealth can spare the human soul from grief. As a man of compassion, he saw that every tear shed at a deathbed was a measure of how deeply a person had loved. And so, his words arose not from despair but from understanding — from the recognition that love and loss are woven together into the same sacred fabric of mortal existence. In them, he teaches that we must not curse sorrow, for it is the final proof that love has lived in us.

To love is to open the gates of the heart, to allow joy, trust, and tenderness to dwell within. But to love is also to become vulnerable — for everything that lives must one day pass, and everything we hold dear must one day part from us. Yet the alternative — to live without love — is to live in a cold and empty world, untouched by the beauty that gives life meaning. Thus, Nelson’s words proclaim a profound truth: if we wish to remove the pain of death, we must also erase the warmth of life. And who among us would make such a trade? Better to suffer the ache of grief than to dwell forever in the numbness of indifference.

History offers countless examples of this truth, but none shines brighter than the story of Queen Victoria. When her beloved husband, Prince Albert, died, she was consumed by grief, wearing black for the rest of her life. To the world, her mourning seemed endless — yet in that sorrow, one could see the depth of her love. She once said, “We all have our trials, but what are they compared with the agony of losing the one we love?” Her pain was not a curse, but a crown of devotion — proof that she had loved greatly, and that love, though parted by death, endured still. Her sorrow was heavy, but her love immortal; in her mourning, we see the truth of Nelson’s words: to escape such sorrow would have been to erase the love that gave her life its light.

This teaching also holds a quiet consolation for those who grieve. It reminds us that sorrow is not the enemy of life — it is the echo of its most sacred bond. When a mother weeps for her child, when a friend mourns a friend, when lovers part by death, their tears are not signs of weakness but of strength. They testify that love has left a mark so deep that even death cannot erase it. In this way, grief becomes holy, for it reveals that love is stronger than time, that memory defies the grave, and that even in pain, there is a kind of beauty — the beauty of having loved at all.

Nelson’s wisdom invites us, then, not to flee from love for fear of loss, but to embrace it fully while we can. Every act of kindness, every tender word, every shared moment becomes sacred when we understand its impermanence. Knowing that love will one day end in parting should not make us love less — it should make us love more fiercely, more gratefully, more attentively. To live with love is to accept the coming of sorrow, just as to walk in the sunlight is to accept the shadow. But when we live with open hearts, even sorrow becomes a form of light, for it carries within it the memory of joy.

Therefore, my children of the living and the dying, take this lesson to heart: do not fear the sorrow of death, for it is the final proof that your life has been rich with love. When loss comes, let your grief flow as a river of gratitude — for to weep is to honor what has been precious. Love bravely, even knowing it will one day break your heart. Give yourself to life with tenderness and courage, for every sorrow that awaits is but the price of a life fully lived.

And when you stand, one day, in your own valley of mourning, remember these words of Russell M. Nelson: that to take sorrow out of death, one must take love out of life. Choose, then, to keep love — even if it brings sorrow — for love alone gives life its meaning, and sorrow, its sanctity. For the heart that loves deeply will suffer, yes — but it will also live eternally, in the unbroken circle where love and loss become one and the same light.