Matt’s daughter Millie died when she was just six (Picture: Supplied) ‘I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t contemplated it and been close,’ says Matt Ridout, 39, from Dunstable. ‘I haven’t because I know Amelia wouldn’t want me to – but I completely understand Wendy’s motivation.’ Dad of one, Matt is talking about assisted dying.  Two weeks ago, no one had heard of 56-year-old Wendy Duffy, from Birmingham. Yet just 48 hours ago, though the grieving mother ended her life through choice at Pegasos clinic in Switzerland. Why? Mum of one, Wendy couldn’t stand the thought of living without her son Marcus, 23, who died after choking on a sandwich she made him in 2022. Matt’s daughter Amelia – or Millie for short – was six when she took her last breath.  The beautiful, kind and sweet year two pupil lost her life in Addenbrooke’s hospital, Cambridge when a routine biopsy went wrong on June 16th 2022. ‘I ceased to function when I lost her,’ Matt tells Metro. ‘I lived for Millie and she was gone. I didn’t see the point in carrying on.  ‘She had so much love in her heart for everything. There was no such thing as boredom with Millie either. She’d notice the small things and appreciate everything. She loved the outdoors and we’d spend hours finding animals in the clouds – turtles, unicorns, dragons. ‘She’d giggle at how the wind felt on her cheeks when I’d push her on the swing. ‘I lived for Millie and she was gone. I didn’t see the point in carrying on,’ says Matt (Picture: Supplied) ‘Millie embraced life so much. She was my purpose, my happiness. I bought the grave next to her and all I could think about was being in it next to her. ‘I can feel Wendy’s pain – when you lose your child through something that should be utterly avoidable it literally rips you in two.’ Having been poorly for around four months after developing bruising, Millie went for blood tests in February 2022 that revealed she may have a blood platelet disorder. Matt was told the clinicians suspected pancytopenia, a condition characterised by a reduction in the three main types of blood cells – red, white and platelets, but a bone marrow biopsy would confirm the condition – treated with blood transfusions and medication. Ten minutes after being given her anaesthetic for the biopsy, with Matt sitting outside the room, he says he had a sense something was wrong. ‘Someone came out and ushered me into a side room,’ he remembers. ‘When you lose your child through something that should be utterly avoidable it literally rips you in two.’ (Picture: Supplied) ‘They told me Millie had passed away but they’d resuscitated her four times so far and they were struggling to keep her alive. I remember them saying “we’re doing everything we can…”‘ Less than an hour later, his only daughter had taken her last breath.  ‘When I first heard Wendy’s story, it resonated deeply with me, but it also brought up a lot of pain and frustration,’ says Matt. ‘The reality is that, as a society, we don’t have the right support systems in place for parents who lose children. ‘When Amelia died, there was no meaningful bereavement or trauma support offered. I’ve been to my GP since then, and there hasn’t been any proper help; they’ve said my situation is too complex.’ Grieving mother Wendy Duffy ended her life through choice at Pegasos clinic in Switzerland.(Picture: Murray Sanders) Matt says since Wendy took her life, he’s thought about her, Amelia and Wendy’s son Marcus a lot. ‘When I read about Wendy, I felt deep sadness, but also frustration. Not quite anger, but something close to it,’ he says. ‘The support simply isn’t there. And while it’s easy to blame the NHS or frontline services, the reality is they can only work within the limits they’re given. This is a broader societal and governmental issue. There isn’t enough funding or structure to properly support people in these situations.’ It was moving to the Lake District that finally broke Matt’s suicidal thoughts. ‘We know there are high suicide rates among parents who lose children. We know it’s happening,’ he says.  ‘There was no such thing as boredom with Millie either. She’d notice the small things and appreciate everything.’ (Picture: Supplied) Read more... ‘My husband aced the memory tests – but I knew it was dementia’ ‘The day my dad died, I set off to row 3,000 miles across the Atlantic’ I met my adopted daughter and our dream family quickly turned into chaos ‘But it’s still treated as too taboo to properly address. I still want to live my life fully. I try to move forward, to do what I need to do, and to honour what my daughter taught me. But at the same time, I’m very aware that one day, the pain, the trauma, and the exhaustion I feel every day will end. And that brings a certain sense of peace. ‘Living with this kind of grief is like carrying a chronic condition – it’s constant, it’s heavy, and it never ever switches off. ‘If I’m being completely honest, there were times when, if someone had offered me a way out – a clinic, an option to end the pain, I might have considered it. That’s how intense it can get.’ It was moving to the Lake District that finally broke Matt’s suicidal thoughts (Picture: Supplied) While Matt will never get the chance to speak to Wendy, he wishes he could have reached out to her, having been on the same path. ‘If I could have spoken to Wendy, I wouldn’t have tried to give her answers. ‘I would have simply asked her to come for a walk. To be in nature. To sit quietly by a lake or walk through the woods. Just to exist in a space that isn’t filled with reminders of loss. Nature has a way of gently grounding you. It doesn’t take the pain away, but it gives you moments where you can breathe again. ‘Watching the sky, listening to the wind, noticing the small things. It stops your mind from spiralling into ‘what ifs’ and ‘if onlys.’ It brings you back to the moment. And sometimes, that’s enough to get through another day.’ Need support? For emotional support, you can call the Samaritans 24-hour helpline on 116 123, email jo@samaritans.org, visit a Samaritans branch in person or go to the Samaritans website. PAPYRUS offers specialised suicide prevention support for young people. Their HOPELINE247 is open every day of the year, 24 hours a day. You can call 0800 068 4141, text 88247 or email: pat@papyrus-uk.org.