All of this trauma was just brushed over, like everything was in those days. I was born in 1948, just after the war, and people were so accustomed to death by then, it was almost second nature; everybody knew someone who hadn’t come back. Our situation somehow didn’t matter all that much when everyone around us had experienced loss.

My father had Dawn buried in the cemetery, which was very unusual in the days of stillborns being pushed down a chute; an acknowledgment that she actually counted. When I was older, I would visit her grave with my father. Having a permanent place to ‘see’ her matters so much. Lone twins I have met through the Lone Twin Network, a twin bereavement support network, have often been left without a proper place to grieve, and without knowing where – or if at all – their other half has been laid to rest. One of my hobbies is calligraphy, and writing Dawn’s name on a stone to lay there felt like one more way to pay my respects to someone I never properly met, but who radically altered the course of my life. I’d say around 40 per cent of those I have met through the LTN had their twin die at birth, and the effect is truly profound. Some studies have suggested that we retain memories prior to birth, which goes some way to explaining how deeply we feel their loss. And then there is the survivor’s guilt: why did I live, when my twin sister didn’t? I’m not sure that emotion ever really leaves you. 

Grief can also strike unexpectedly, and long down the line, which makes things difficult to deal with for parents and children. For those like my sister, who was seven when I was born, a different kind of sadness must be navigated.

There has been some comfort in meeting other lone twins and sharing our experiences, as I have with my wife who, following the death of her sister a decade ago, is now also a lone twin. When they’d have disagreements, as sisters do, I’d almost want to bang their heads together and say: ‘For heaven’s sake, be grateful for what you’ve got, and kiss and make up.’ Invariably they did. 

Ronaldo’s openness about their boy’s loss is a good sign, I hope, that devastating things like this can now be discussed, and that solace and support can be found in organisations like the LTN. Dawn will always be an integral part of me, and recognising her openly helps me to cherish her memory.

As told to Charlotte Lytton