When Silence Became My Only Frequency
Thirty-six months ago, I switched off the radios. Just like that, a hobby that had been woven into the very fabric of my identity went into hiding. The reason? One of my closest friends passed away. He wasn’t the first. Heartbreakingly, he wasn’t even the last to leave me. There have been so many others since. But this man—he was different. He was a father figure. He kept me grounded, kept me out of trouble. His absence left a void that static could never fill.Amateur Radio—Ham Radio—was my world from the time I was 13 years old. Through those airwaves, I didn’t just hear voices from distant lands; I connected with souls. Hours of late-night conversations turned strangers into friends, radio calls into coffee shop meetups, and eventually… into eulogies I never wanted to write.I became the youngest. The last man standing.
The Truth About #Grief No One Tells You
Here’s the thing about grief that catches you off guard: you never “get over it.” You don’t move past the loss—you learn to move with it.Yes, life goes on. The sun rises. Responsibilities call. But life? Life is never, ever the same. And that’s okay. It took me years to accept that this isn’t a flaw in healing—it’s the very nature of love. We grieve deeply because we loved deeply. The ache is proof that what we had was real. If you’re reading this and you’re in that dark place right now, please hear me: Your grief is not weakness. It’s not something to “fix.” It’s something to honor, to sit with, and eventually—when you’re ready, not when anyone else says you should be—to carry forward.
Finding My Way Back
I moved. Downsized from suburbia to the country, surrounded by open land and quiet skies. Every single one of those friends I lost would have loved it here. Plenty of room for antennas. Peaceful nights perfect for DXing.I finally built a shop—or as we hams call it, a shack.One by one, I began unboxing the old radios.Some I had purchased myself over the years. But many—so many—were bequeathed to me through wills I didn’t even know existed until long after my friends were resting. Each radio carries a memory. Each trinket, each piece of equipment, holds a story. One of them still carries the distinct scent of cigarette smoke. Its owner passed at 54. Smoking almost certainly led to his untimely demise. Every time I catch that faint smell, I hear his laugh, his voice breaking through the static late at night.
The First Transmission in Nine Years
Today, nine years after losing my dear friend, I finally turned one of the radios on.The crackle of static filled the room. It wasn’t the same. How could it be?But it was something. A small spark. A whisper of what once was—and maybe, just maybe, what could be again.
A Step Forward: Field Day 2026
As we approach another ARRL Field Day on June 27th, I’ve made a decision: I’m going to attend as a spectator.Ham conventions will never be the same without my friends. I suspect this event won’t be what I remember either. The voices will be different. The faces unfamiliar.But perhaps that’s the point.
The Battle Within
There’s a large part of me that wants to leave this chapter of my life buried—resting peacefully alongside those friends who made it so meaningful.But there’s also this quiet voice inside. A small but persistent whisper saying: It’s time.Time to embrace what is rather than mourn what was.Time to maybe—just maybe—become that person for someone else. The mentor. The father figure. The steady voice on the other end of the frequency who keeps a young ham out of trouble and shows them the magic of connection.
If You’re Grieving Too
To anyone reading this who has stepped away from something they loved because the pain of loss made it unbearable:
- Give yourself permission to grieve on your own timeline. There is no “right” way or “right” amount of time.
- Honor the memories, but don’t let them become a prison. Our loved ones wouldn’t want their memory to steal our joy forever.
- Consider small steps. You don’t have to dive back in. Spectating, like I’m doing, is still showing up.
- Talk about them. Say their names. Share their stories. They live on through us.
- Seek support when you need it. Whether it’s friends, a counselor, or a community who understands—grief was never meant to be carried alone.
- Know that honoring their legacy might mean continuing what you shared. Perhaps the greatest tribute is to keep going—and to be for someone else what they were for you.
The static crackles. The frequency awaits.I don’t know what comes next. But for the first time in a long time, I’m willing to find out.
73, my friends. 📻
If you’re curious about Field Day or want to find a local event to attend, visit: http://www.arrl.org/field-day
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- #EmbraceWhatIs
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- #HamRadio
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- #FieldDay2026
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- #73
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- #GriefAwareness
- #LossAndLove
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- #ItsOkayToGrieve
- #GriefSupport
- #HealingFromLoss
- #YouAreNotAlone
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