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I braced myself, went in. The room was dimly lit, unfamiliar - I ’d been inside it only once in my life. I moved ahead uncertainly, and there she was. I stood, frozen, staring. I stared and stared. It was difficult, but I kept on, thinking how I ’d regretted not seeing my mother at the end. Years of lamenting that lack of proof, postponing my grief for want of proof. Now I thought : Proof. Careful what Chris Jackson/Getty Images Harry wish for.

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