MAKING DEV PROUD

On the anniversary of her son's death, Meera Naran, 38, is campaigning to ensure no other mother will endure the grief she has

- SARAH WHITELEY

Picking up his big brother Neel's coat, my youngest son Dev gently helped him put it on. Now let's get your shoes,' he said.

'Dev, you don't have to do that,' I said. 'I can help Neel.' I shouldn't have bothered putting up any resistance. Dev, eight, was devoted to his brother.

'Don't worry, Mum,' he replied, shaking his head. I've got this.'

Neel had been diagnosed with brain damage and epilepsy at three days old, in September 2008, due to a rare condition. Doctors warned us they didn't know how long he'd live or what milestones he'd reach.

It really changed mine and my husband's perspective, and we lived each day as if it could be Neel's last. We passed that outlook onto Dey when he was born just 13 months later, and he needed no encouragement to be there for his big brother. Every day, after school, he'd rush straight past me, towards Neel.

'I did really well in my maths test,' he'd tell him. Neel's speech was limited, but nothing stopped the two of them from communicating and laughing together.

Each night, Dev would curl up in Neel's bed and they'd squeeze each other tightly and fall asleep in each other's arms.

Dev loved being a sibling so much, he told us he wanted a little sister - but not until he was 10. Then I'll be old enough to help,' he told me. 'We can call her Evangeline, like in Nanny McPhee.'

It started as a joke, but having always wanted more children, it became our plan.

Dev was such a special little boy. At six, he told me he wanted to be a brain surgeon. There must be lots of children out there like Neel, and I could help them,' he said.