The appeal of eating a loved one’s ashes | Bereavement

I would like to reassure Rachael Stirling (‘I didn’t expect to be portrayed as a cannibal’: Rachael Stirling on eating her mother Diana Rigg’s ashes, 11 October) that, far from grimacing or feeling disgust over her admission of eating a few grains of her mother’s ashes, I was deeply moved. My best friend’s beloved mother died last year and I immediately sent the quote to her, as I knew it would resonate with her.

As your review of Stirling’s book entitled All About My Mother states, she eats a grain of her mother’s ashes so that she is “cloaked in her, shielded and shrouded by her. I am her. My mother is my superpower. She always was.”

These words perfectly encapsulate how my friend feels about her own mother, and how so many of us feel about the person from whose body we came.

Emily Hall

Llanbadarn Fawr, Ceredigion

I was interested to read Rachael Stirling’s article as I have long been familiar with the practice of drinking the ashes of the deceased. Kenneth Good’s book Into the Heart: An Amazonian Love Story describes his anthropological study of the Yanomami people in the Amazon, where, after cremation, all the ashes are mixed into a drink made of sweet, ripe plantain and consumed – with an accompanying feast – by the close family, friends and others who wish to show their respect. I find that the practice has a certain appeal and can fully sympathise with Rachael’s use of her mother’s ashes.

Pauline Lowe

Bryn Y Maen, Colwyn Bay

I don’t expect to be the only one writing to reassure Rachael Stirling – I did it too! A tiny bit of my mum’s ashes in 1990, and of my partner’s in 2020. It’s a way of keeping them part of you. And I don’t see how it counts as cannibalism, which is defined as eating human flesh.

Fiona Collins

Corwen, Denbighshire