The Loneliness of Grief

It sounds like a good title for a book, don’t you think? To be honest, since Frith died, I’ve considered writing a book, and this is one of the titles I’ve thrown around in my head. It was inspired by something said by a fellow sufferer of grief; the wife of a doctor who died by suicide 16 months ago, who I have befriended and who has been such a comfort in my life this year. (Hi Sue x)

I was just sitting on the couch, trying to decide what to watch, and all of a sudden I was filled with the desire, the need to talk to Frith. The silence that fills this space, the void on the couch next to me, the absence of my companion, my partner in life, punches me in the face every so often. And tonight was one of those times.

Normally, I’m fairly present, and these moments don’t often creep up on me. I’m constantly aware of them, but they don’t take me by surprise, if you get my drift. For example, my brother-in-law, Jacques, is driving the kombi at the moment, and is staying with my mother-in-law, a kilometer down the road, and every time I drive past the kombi, I’m present enough to know that Frith isn’t nearby.

I know it’s because nothing here is associated with Frith, so I don’t have the constant reminders of him. If we were still living in our family home in Rockhampton, I would have a constant feeling of Frith about to come home, or listening out for him. In some ways I’m fortunate not to have that constant reminder that he’s not here.

Like I need to be reminded.

But tonight, I was caught off-guard, and wondered for a moment “where’s Frith and what does he want to watch, because I can’t decide”. And it stung. I don’t cry much, partly because I don’t have the energy left at the end of the day; partly because my life feels surreal and it’s easy to detach from the old and exist in the new. But I suspect it’s mainly because if I start, my heart breaks a little more, and it’s too hard to stop. There will never be an end to this loneliness and this grief, and the thought of having to acknowledge that is just too much right now.

Maybe one day.


  1. How weird are our neural pathways? Suddenly taking a wrong turn down a decommissioned track. It’s bittersweet. Appreciate your bravery xoxo

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