When I was writing about childlessness many years ago now, I said the words to describe those who were involuntarily childless were always entirely negative: childless, infertile, impotent. Such words defined someone by what they are not.

Words have in the last day overflowed with grief, disbelief, shock and anger as we come to terms with the death of Jo Cox, a UK democratically elected politician. Those words I hope in time with contribute to the desire of Jo’s widower, Brendan, that their children should be bathed in love. I hope and pray that this is true.

Words have been used to demean politicians, even hard working ones, in ways they do not deserve. (Let’s leave aside the fact that sometimes they do deserve a sharp reminder from those whom they represent, as much as I sometimes deserve harsh words too). It has become too easy to vilify, ridicule or laugh at those who make our laws and to allow this to overspill into anger.

Words have been used of late to dehumanise other human beings; those whom may be fleeing for their lives. Words have been used carelessly to stoke up hatred and fear.

Words do not have to be used in this way.

Words may have been uttered in a small Yorkshire town on 16 June 2016 as the life of a young mum was snatched away. Words were stated later by a grieving husband, who managed to remind us of our common humanity.

Our words are never isolated. We pretend that they are at our peril. Words can be used for all sorts of good; to praise, compliment and enable.

It is those sorts of words that we now, as we remember that they are never isolated.