I can imagine loss because I’ve known it

ASKED the hardest things I’ve ever done, I’d pick ‘officiating’ at candle services for bereaved parents, one in Liverpool’s Anglican Cathedral, and one in Southwark.

After my address, I read out hundreds of names of dead children, given in by their parents. It was deeply moving and uplifting to talk to the families.

Those events came about because I’d been closely involved in the establishing of the national Child Death Helpline ( childdeathhelpline. org.uk) in 1995, and talked to groups belonging to a wonderful charity for bereaved parents called The Compassionate Friends ( tcf.org).

In those years, it was my mission to give meaning to the stillbirth of my second son (at full term after a very long labour), by writing and broadcasting about bereavement.

A 1976 article led directly to the founding of the Stillbirth Association (now SANDS, sands. org.uk) and I’m proud to be founder-patron. I was also honoured with a citation (presented by the Queen) in 1984 by the bereavement charity Cruse ( cruse.org.uk).

Why do I tell you? Last week’s letter from ‘Cynthia’ asked what to do with her dead child’s belongings. I suggested she keep treasures, donate clothes, books, toys etc, and maybe make a ritual of burning papers.

Some sympathetic emails came from readers, two with the lovely suggestion that the clothes of a loved one can be made into a keepsake ( lovekeepcreate.co.uk).

Sadly, some bereaved parents were shocked and angry I should dare suggest Cynthia actually tackles her problem. Accusing me of ignorance, they objected to me saying I could ‘easily imagine’ her feelings.

Fair enough; they wrote out of permanent grief. Yet the truth is, I can, for the reasons above.

And what is empathy but reaching out? I’m happy Cynthia was grateful: ‘I want to thank you for showing us a way forward and I will let you know how we get on.’