PASS US A TISSUE

Listening to Kirstin Neff on Radio 4 today reminded me of the importance of acknowledging our difficulties.  I'm practiced in saying to myself, ’This hurts',  so I can care of myself accordingly.  Sometimes, it's also important to acknowledge that pain to others.  So, I have decided to share some sad personal news.  It is now in the public domain and you may already have heard it: though I am pretty sure none of you read the gutter press!
 
 We have been carrying a great sorrow since June, when our son, who has a severe and enduring mental illness, was accused of the sexual assault of a minor at a high school while on placement for his university course.  We kept very quiet about it until early December, when sadly he was convicted of the offence.  We are not at all sure what actually happened, but we have to accept the court decision.  You may imagine how this has impacted on us.  Such behaviour is the antithesis of our own values and all we have worked for throughout our professional lives.   
 
We are torn between the very natural desire to support our son and our sadness that the young complainant and the young witnesses had to go through so much to bring this to court. We think these young people are very brave indeed.  
 
Our son has not yet been sentenced, but is on the sex offenders register with all the restraints that that involves.  As we have the care of his children at the moment, this has also meant the intrusion of police and social work into our own lives.  The organisation that cares for the children of offenders has the tag line, ‘Not our crime, still our sentence’.  That resonates with us right now.  Our lives have been permanently altered through something that was not our doing.  It is natural for us to prioritise concern for him and for his children.  It’s easy to forget that we too need compassion, love and understanding.  
 
In the midst of this, we have had so much joy with our grandchildren over the Christmas season.  They leave us tomorrow to make the 4,000 mile trip home. I have to stop writing now; I have promised them one last opportunity to beat their Granny at Scrabble!