I’ve always had a good impression of Natasha Richardson and her work. So there’s the great pity of her best never going to be. She was only 45. My paternal grandfather had three more years on her.
Before the news about her accident starting ricocheting around, I didn’t know she was married to Liam Neeson with two boys. So now there’s the terrible parallel with Love, Actually, in which Liam Neeson’s character was widowed early and left with a son. Poor Neeson, poor sons. Poor Vanessa Redgrave — who would want their child to go before them?
Even more terrible is the thought of how she carried her death inside her for an hour or so, before the knell sounded, before the headaches came. I don’t know how the shock of something like this to a family would ever pass .
A prayer, then. For her and her own.