There is a strange and powerful sense of public loss this evening, with the sudden death of Natasha Richardson. An actor in her own right, film and stage, she was also the daughter of acting royalty, the Redgraves. Liam was a plain man, drove a fork lift and stumbled into acting. He is one of our most brilliant and gifted actors alive. This evening there is alot of talking about why the public is so moved, grieving, blogging, sending notes and flowers...it must be, they keep noting, her wonderful acting in films and her Tony award for Cabaret...his acting in Schindler's List. The very strange thing is that Liam had previously made two films in which he lost the woman he loved, very much as he lost his real wife, Natasha...from great and unexpected catastrophy. In Ethan Frome, based on a short novel by Edith Wharton, the crippled Frome brings in the cousin of his ill wife to care for her. The girl is young, vibrant and beautiful. Bent, hobbling, depressed from his wife's verbal abuse and ingratitude, the viewer watches the transformation of Ethan Frome into someone brought to life from being loved and loving back. But the story is a tragedy, as today's story is for him. I think what is most painful in all of this, is that we saw two people who seemed genuinely to love and protect each other. They faced the world as a unit far from tabloid scandal, in a time when relationships, marriages are fragile, disposable and replaceable...I think of Liam, left bereft of a love that he held so dear, Natasha had nursed him only 2 yrs ago after an accident left him with a crushed pelvis. EVery time my son calls I ask him about his brother and sisters...I remind all of them that partners and parents come and go,brothers should look after their sisters...I might as well be speaking in greek.