BEL MOONEY: How could my lovely son-in-law walk out on us all? 

Dear Bel,

I am a widow in my early 90s and still trying to get over the upset caused when my son-in-law left his wife and four grown-up children 20 years ago.

I never expected to have to deal with that when I was in my 70s. Years later I still find it hard to come to terms with the devastation he caused. It left me full of grief.

He was a good man and like a son to me, especially after my husband died, and yet he’s turned his back on our lovely daughter and moved abroad to a country where the grass is obviously greener. I live alone which means I have plenty of time to turn the events over and over in my mind. I hope that I’ll get it out of my system one of these days.

I’ve felt hate from time to time but still care for the ‘son’ I had for all those happy years.

Does this make me a fool who should have more important things to think about?

JOAN

Frankly, if it is foolish to be haunted (even tormented) by past events then most of us ought to be capering about in jester’s outfits, like Shakespeare’s fools.

Of course, in the great plays it is the ‘fool’ who is the wise one, jokily telling the truth to puncture the vanity of the rich and powerful, but also intensely sad because human folly doesn’t change.

Is it a waste of time and energy to dwell on the past as you are doing? Yes. But is it pretty much inevitable? Yes, again.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and feel a stab of regret or embarrassment at something that happened 20 or 30 years ago, or more. As the poet T.S. Eliot comments, ‘Ridiculous the waste, sad time / Stretching before and after.’

You loved your son-in-law very much, yet had to stand by and watch while he inflicted terrible damage on his wife and children.

Truly I believe it impossible to understand or fully come to terms with why some huge, life-changing events happen.

Last Sunday I took part in a discussion about infidelity on Radio London, and that’s what we’re actually talking about here, isn’t it?

How to live with the aftermath.

I made the point that if a person wants to stay in the marriage they have to learn to live with the knowledge that the cheating partner is not the person they thought they knew.

Similarly the doting mother-in-law (you) is bitterly wounded both by the hurt she is forced to witness and the realisation that she might have been making a colossal misjudgment of character for years.

Do you ever talk about the events with your daughter? Sometimes families will skirt around a subject for ages when it might be healing to be honest about lasting damage.

Twenty years have passed and I just hope your daughter managed to rebuild her life, and that your grandchildren learned to live their lives without hating their father.

You mention your own ‘hate’ and it’s no wonder that you have felt such a powerful feeling towards the man who trampled on all your lives.

Humans are very complicated; that’s why it’s possible at once to hate that man for the hurt he caused and to go on loving the memory of how kind he could be at his best. I doubt it is possible for any of us truly to get such pain out of our systems.

No, we have no choice but to live with the light and shade of existence, all the more so the more conscious we are of mortality.

A longing to meet our little warrior 

Dear Bel

My granddaughter was expecting her baby in September, but was feeling unwell and felt the need to push, and so on Monday 22, she called Southampton Maternity Unit.

Despite not having been seen by a midwife since 16 weeks she was told not to come. The baby was born at 7am the next day but she was told he had died at 9pm the previous day. I believe if they had looked after her and caught this in time, her baby would be alive.

We were so looking forward to meeting our little warrior. My grieving granddaughter has all the equipment but no baby. I feel the hospital might have been negligent but I am not sure how to contact the Patient Advice and Liaison Service (PALS). I would welcome any advice. The hospital said there would be an inquiry. Is there anything I can do?

CAROLYN

Last month was Sands Awareness Month — a way for the charity (Stillbirth and Neonatal Death) to send its important message out to the public in many ways. This year the emphasis was on raising awareness of how important it is that the right care and support is there for bereaved parents, whenever their baby died.

This aim is lodged deep within my own heart as I am proud to be one of two founder-patrons of the charity and know from personal experience that a ‘lost’ baby remains a real person to grieving parents.

What’s more, the emptiness can make a whole family suffer, as your letter shows.

I shall use this moment to send out a heartfelt plea to all readers not to remain silent in the presence of another’s grief. Saying something as simple as ‘I’m so sorry’ can be a comfort. The Sands website has a moving animation which will help others to understand such a loss.

Our Sands’ Director of Bereavement Support says: ‘I am so sorry to hear about your daughter’s experience and that your great-grandson sadly died.’

The shock, pain and disbelief can be hard to bear and so much harder if you have questions about care. Sands Bereavement Support Team is available to listen via phone, email, and closed Facebook and online support communities sands.org.uk/support.

Every baby who dies in the UK must have a review and parent voices must be heard as part of this review. (sands.org.uk/support-you/understanding-why-your-baby-died/faqs-bereaved-parents-about-reviewsinvestigations) The PALS service for Southampton can be found at solent.nhs.uk/tell-us/patient-advice-and-liaison-service-pals. Write to them with your concerns and request your granddaughter’s voice be heard.

I hope this helps your family, Carolyn and that you can support each other in the journey through grief. We never forget the babies we loved and lost.

She’s so obese yet we can’t help her 

Dear Bel

After every meeting with my daughter-in-law I have a sleepless night as I can see that she is getting more obese, more unhealthy and ever more likely to leave my son a widower.

Fortunately, they have never had children. She is 50 but declared ten years ago that she didn’t want to be ‘fat and 40’. We encouraged every new diet but the problem is alcohol.

She does not cook, has a stressful sedentary job and a very selfish mother who is showing signs of dementia.

I can see alcohol helps relieve the stress she is under and that it is easier to put on weight than take it off, but how can she put her health at such risk?

My son will have the occasional dig at her about her size but I think he has given up. She’s tried clubs and special meals.

It breaks my heart to see her ever-increasing weight and unhealthiness. Your thoughts and advice would be much appreciated.

JEN

This anxiety over your daughter-in-law’s obesity is justified, but I have to confess immediately that I do not see what you can possibly do about it. That’s a very negative start and I’m sorry, but we must be realistic.

Many of us have the experience of watching those we love indulge in things that are really bad for them, but if you try to remonstrate you are likely to be accused of nagging, or interfering.

If you stay silent you doom yourself to permanent worry that you should be addressing the problem. But if you speak up you run the risk of offence being taken and a relationship ruined for ever.

Your analysis of the strains within your daughter-in-law’s life is generous and convincing. Many people (including me) will reach for a drink as a quick way to soften the edges of a problem.

But the only person with a chance of being listened to on the subject of alcohol would be your son, her husband.

You say that by this stage in their life he has given up trying to influence her behaviour. However, if he makes digs about her weight it can only make things worse: she will feel more stressed than ever, hate herself, and turn to the booze again.

Have a word with him and suggest he looks at the website: nhs.uk/conditions/alcohol-misuse to educate himself about how to help her.

I suggest they sit down together, read the content carefully and then talk about a way forward.

I feel very sorry for your daughter-in-law because I’m sure there must be times when she looks in the mirror and despairs at her own reflection.

The problem has obviously bothered her for more than ten years, but she will need to want to change her life in order to give up or cut down on her calorific drinking.

If I were you I would say nothing, just offer encouragement and affection and do whatever you can to build up her confidence.

And finally… I’m ready for either outcome

This column is usually written on Monday or Tuesday, to give me time to read emails and letters, as well as write other articles for the Mail.

Generally, I know what I shall write in this space too, the AF section which so many of you tell me you enjoy, because it’s often so personal. Ah, but this week I realised I had to wait until after that tense semi-final against Denmark.

If we’d lost, I’d planned a wise, philosophical piece about how we all have to deal with disappointment, in our relationships, jobs, families, and so on. Because it’s vital, isn’t it? Otherwise setbacks would finish us off.

And after all, one team has to lose, one set of passionate supporters must cry, one coach will be forced to rally the players with, ‘Next time … this is what we’ll have to do . . . ’

But to win! To reach the final against Italy! Aaaagh! Now I’m remembering the dignity and grace of the Ukrainians and the Danes, and suspect those fiery, duck-diving Italians will be a lot rougher in every way, most of them bad.

Prejudice? Yes, obviously I want my team to be victorious and am quite happy to conjure up all my witchy abilities and put a dark hex (Malocchio = evil eye) on our opponents.

And here we come full circle, having to face the possibility of disappointment. I’ve always advised younger people to be ready for the fact that somebody will be horrible to you, or your bolshie teen is bound to make you miserable, or your book/pet project/dream may fail, or it will rain on your picnic/garden party/wedding (unless you live in Italy!).

‘Be ready for the bad things to jump out on you,’ I’d counsel, ‘and then they won’t take you by surprise.’

So here we go. Tomorrow night my husband and I will be sitting on the sofa with our three little dogs, all cheering and yapping England on. But if we lose, I won’t shed a tear. No, there’s plenty to be proud of, either way.