
It’s been more than a year since I lost my friend Robert, and the words I’ve kept trying to say to remember him.
I’ve spent hours upon hours trying to write something that will do him justice and feel like I’ve already failed.
Write. Backspace. Delete. Over and over, the pattern repeats.
Because this stuff is heavy. It’s real.
As a writer, I’m not used to being lost for words. I spend my days setting scenes, assembling facts, telling stories. Why am I paralysed by… a feeling?
Grief is strange like that. It takes time to process what you’ve really lost. It can’t always be summed up in a tweet or Instagram caption.
The world just keeps on going and you do too. A thought randomly crosses your mind; “I wonder how [insert friend’s name here] is going?”
You catch yourself. They’re no longer a phone call away. They have no more Facebook updates. They are a memory only you can keep alive.
My loss was a loss of a friend. He was my brother-in-law, but he almost wore a bit of a ‘life coach’/mentor hat for me.
I can’t compare my loss to what his wife has felt. But I can speak from the perspective of a friend.
And I’m ready to share what I’ve learnt.
1. Friendships can start where you least expect them.
With 37 years between us, we were obviously at very different life stages. I first met him at a family get-together. We were both the outsiders – me as the boyfriend to my partner, him as the boyfriend to my partner’s sister.