Bob Carr's Journey Through Grief: Walking Sydney's Streets After Losing His Wife
The former New South Wales premier and Australian foreign minister Bob Carr describes the profound experience of grief as becoming "memory struck" in a bereaved condition. In his deeply personal new book, Bring Back Yesterday, Carr chronicles his emotional journey following the sudden death of his beloved wife Helena from an aneurysm while they were holidaying in Vienna in October 2023.
Nighttime Walks Through Sydney's Streets
In the immediate aftermath of Helena's passing, Carr found himself wandering Sydney's night-time streets for kilometres in what he describes as a trance of grief. These nocturnal sojourns became a regular ritual for many months as he processed his loss.
"You become what I call 'memory struck' in your bereaved condition. Knocked sideways. Unabashed nostalgia, I think, becomes part of the approach to life that a bereaved person takes," Carr explains during a walk through Sydney's Botanic Gardens.
These walks took him past countless places of shared experience with Helena: restaurants where they'd dined, now dilapidated and shuttered; city corners holding political memories; and the Belvoir Street theatre where they'd enjoyed productions with friends like Paul and Annita Keating.
The Catharsis of Writing Through Grief
Carr's book serves as both an honoring of Helena's memory and a searingly candid examination of grief's profound aftermath. The title itself references literary works about loss, including Caitlin Thomas's memoir Leftover Life to Kill, which Carr describes as "unreadably bad" but whose title perfectly captures the experience of continuing life as a surviving spouse.
"My motivation was to not lose images of Helena," Carr reveals. "There is a slight panic in the bereaved condition that the image of the lost one will fade. CS Lewis likens that to seeing a photograph on the floor and having snow fall upon it."
He also hopes his account might help others who unexpectedly lose their life partners, providing insight into the grieving process from someone known as a public figure.
Learning to Live a "Leftover Life"
After five decades of marriage that Carr describes as "half a century of co-conspiracy," he now finds himself "living the leftover life." This has required acquiring numerous practical skills he'd never needed before.
"I thought, 'This is a joke on you Bob, but it's going to be a start – you're going to have to learn a lot,'" he says. "In days of getting home from Vienna with Helena's ashes, I learned to turn on a washing machine. I learned to cook vegetables in a wok. I learned how to use Uber. She loved driving – I've never driven. I learned after a lot of false starts how to do internet banking."
Carr adds with characteristic honesty: "I really thought repeatedly, 'Bob, the joke is on you.' She'd be quietly amazed that I was doing these things. She'd be proud and when it came to cooking she'd be irritated that I was doing things so wrong."
The Neuralgic Experience of Loss
Carr describes the transition from a decades-long partnership to solitary existence as particularly challenging.
"It is a creepy neuralgic experience to go from that daily partnership with its jokes and references into a lonely state," he explains. "For weeks you'd actually feel the depression on the other side of the bed when there is no one lying in it. I think that severing, that rupture, the awareness of that obliteration is the very essence of it and will severely stress-test your sanity."
Yet he maintains perspective, noting that while grief is profoundly uncomfortable, "sadness, bereavement, is not mental illness, it's not depression and I think most people will survive it."
Finding Solace in Familiar Places
Carr chose to walk the harbourside path from Mrs Macquarie's Chair through the Botanic Gardens for our interview because these locations hold deep personal significance. As a child from a working-class family in the 1950s, the gardens represented "the cheapest entertainment." Later, as a university student studying in the Mitchell Library, then as a backbencher, "lonely" opposition leader, and premier, the gardens provided "a very inviting walk to do at lunchtime."
Today, at 78, Carr remains physically active through walking and weight training, having already swum at Coogee earlier on the day of our interview. His contemplative tone during our conversation about grief contrasts with his more adamant voice when discussing political matters, particularly his concerns about Israel's actions and Australia's relationship with the United States.
As our conversation concludes, Carr heads back into Sydney's sweltering heat, walking and thinking as he makes his way toward his office near state parliament – continuing his journey through grief while honoring the memory of the woman who stood by his side through a decade as NSW premier and beyond.
