I didn’t get to be with my parents as they died. But they knew I loved them

‘There is no single right time, place or way to manage our grief. We all find our own, often inadequate response. And life goes on.’ Photograph: shapecharge/Getty Images

I’m pleased that Adrian Chiles and others (Letters, 16 April) found comfort by being with their parents when they died. I didn’t. My father died in hospital while I was 100 miles away getting a change of clothes. My mother died in her care home while I was out looking for a suitable venue for her funeral. They both knew I loved them and that I was grateful for everything they had given me.

I chose not to see either body, partly because neither of them would have wanted me to. Some of my friends think I have denied something to myself. I don’t. There is no single right time, place or way to manage our grief. We all find our own, often inadequate response. And life goes on.
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