Bereaved mother, writing it all down
Louise Dillon Bennett 
I know where I live. I know where I live because the signposts and landmarks tell me so, but this is not my home.I remember watching the drama Chernobyl on the TV, before all this happened. This is where I live now. My home was full of laughter, and hope. Children played in the park … Read more
Kindness does not give out gold stars, which is really annoying – or badges, or certificates or any kind of recognition that you are doing well at this. It should, because that would really help, but that’s not what kindness is for.Kindness is there to remind you that there is no good way to do … Read more
The thing about tsunamis is the bit before the wave. A monumental rupture happens, hidden underground, miles away and unseen – but the wave doesn’t come straight away. First there is the drawback. It’s the moment where all the water gets sucked out to sea, where the power builds. It’s the part where the fish are left flapping on the beach and no one can quite work out what’s going on. And it’s the part that people see.
I wrote this very soon after Fred died – but didn’t particularly want to share it. A recent conversation made me think of it, and the anger and the rawness that needs a place to go. What you don’t know about grief is that it happens from the inside out. I know you want to … Read more
How we talk about children’s cancer matters. It’s easy to worry about saying the right thing, the wrong thing, and often people end up saying nothing at all, which is the worst of all. The language used usually involves wars, battles, fighting, bravery. In many ways it’s odd. We never say a child lost their battle against an articulated lorry, but cancer it seems is up for the fight.
There are many kinds of mother you can be. Tiger mother, Alpha, Helicopter. I’ve never really seen myself as any of them, and certainly tried to avoid a few. If I had to classify my parenting style, I’d say that I carried stuff. To give it a festive flavour, if this were a nativity, I’d be the donkey.
A month ago today, I was sitting in Regent’s Park, reading a book, drinking coffee. I had an evening at the theatre planned. For the first time in years I felt that everything was under control. I’d spent the previous evening watching Barbra Streisand. I would never to make it to the theatre. 6 hours … Read more