Intruding on private grief

Danielle Crittenden and David Frum tell Miranda's story

In a world of good writing and appalling grief, it was a stop what you’re doing moment — nothing is more present than this. In March 2024, David Frum, a staff writer at The Atlantic and former speechwriter to President George W. Bush, published an essay, “Miranda’s Last Gift”.

The piece centred around a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel called Ringo. It belonged to his daughter, Miranda, who had died suddenly at the age of 32. Frum recalls a past conversation:

“He won’t leave me alone,” I complained to Miranda.

“He thinks of you as his assistant,” she said.

“Well, that’s a relationship of trust at least.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. He’s a Hollywood dog; he has a lot of assistants. Mom is Assistant No. 1. You’re Assistant No. 2.”

Assistant No. 2 became my family nickname ever after.

I tend to go for a walk around the same time every day. I have two or three routes, a steps target to reach and a dog of my own — a Beagle called Gracie — to assist. It is also an opportunity to let a newsletter draft settle. There are few activities more futile than editing a piece of writing immediately after composition.

So I grab my keys and some emergency treats — of the human and dog variety — and head out onto the gentle gradients of suburbia. Children in school uniforms, garage doors opening and closing, the convoy of vans ferrying an army of builders, painters and gardeners in pursuit of some aesthetic ideal.

My iPhone lights up without invitation. I turn to the glitchy, pre-downloaded Podcasts app and it reluctantly buffers before filling with overnight content. As we hurtle through space-time, there is always new content. And my eye is drawn to what is always one of the most challenging and value-creating listens, The David Frum Show.

Each week, Frum opens with that most American of introductions — the monologue. In his case, often a current political or cultural issue, replete with historical framing and moral force. When I grow up, I’d like to be able to write like Frum. Though first, I’d have to be able to think like him. There follows a long-form conversation with a guest, and finally a closing reflection, frequently in the form of a cultural coda.

This week was different. There was no tightly argued editorial opener or musical sendoff. Instead, Frum was joined from all the way down the hall by his wife and fellow writer, Danielle Crittenden, to discuss her new memoir, “Dispatches from Grief”.