I mean that in the old-fashioned sense of the word. I went to a funeral of a 67-year-old man last week. Pancreatic cancer. I did not know him and wondered why my husband (a work colleague) was so insistent on attending the service, considering it was on a Public Holiday, we had to forgo arrangements with our children and it was pouring with rain. And cold. The service was an hour and a half and consisted almost entirely of tributes from the gentleman's family and friends. It was the kind of occasion where say, 150 brochures had been printed and 300 people turned up. There was not an empty seat. It upset me for days: the thing is you always feel this terrible sense of loss, just as if it was your own loved one who has departed. Does it help to prepare us for our own experience one day? I think not, not matter how hard we try, we can't presume to share in another's grief. What it seems to achieve, at least for me, is a kind of cleansing and emptying and a sense that whatever kind of person I have been up to now - I am going to try harder in the future. It is a source of wonder that in this terrible, violent, unfair, cruel world that we inhabit, there are so many amazing individuals that make a difference.