Cathy

A couple evenings ago I went to a support group for people with dead babies. I have never been able to do that before because of living abroad. It isn't easy for me to go even now that I'm back in England. I had to drive a long way and go into a city which I don't know. I was on my own and it was dark. I'm not good with cars, maps, that sort of thing. I spent hours driving around the city, lost and increasingly desperate. But all the while this lovely woman called Cathy (who runs the support group) was sending me texts and trying to help me get there. Eventually I got there. A community centre in some back street in the middle of nowhere. And there was Cathy - on her own. She usually has more people turning up but that night she didn't. She always sits there all evening anyway just in case someone shows up. She's a tall, thin woman, with lovely long black hair. Dignified, resolute and calm. I was just so moved by her and by what she's doing. There she was, on her own, in that middle of nowhere place. There to help women who've lost babies - despite the fact that she has the most God awful story to tell herself. There waving a flag for the bereaved - which is something that very, very few people do. She said to me that she set up the group because she felt she owed it to her lost son Adam to help other parents .... Very modestly, she added that she feels that she's done Adam proud. Well, let me tell you, Cathy. You have. You really have.