Ivan Cameron: A short life that could change Britain | Seizures grow steadily worse | Closeness of bond makes death of a disabled child more harrowing | Our leaders' need to grieve |

It felt far more like a church service than anything else as MPs filed in for what would have been PMQs, then sat in huddles, talking in hushed voices. For the first time I have ever seen, the chaplain who leads prayers in private every day was there. I recognised him only from his dog collar as he stood near the huge double doors, silent, holding a red, leather-bound Bible.

The Prime Minister entered, walking heavily. He alone wore a black tie and everyone saw this and knew what it meant.

Perhaps it is because he is the son of a manse, perhaps it is because he too has lost a child, seven years ago now, but Gordon Brown yesterday managed to find exactly the right words and tone for this most unusual and sudden of Commons occasions.

He began by doing something that has become all too ordinary – listing the names of those who have died in Iraq and Afghanistan – but the three names hung especially long in the silence. Three other sons dead too young, three other families now grieving. “They shall not be forgotten,” said Mr Brown.

He spoke – his voice ponderous and slow of pace – of the death of Ivan Cameron, aged 6, that morning. “I know that in an all too brief young life he brought joy to all those around him. I know also that for all the days of his life he was surrounded by his family’s love.”

Tears pricked at this, though his voice was steady. “Every child is precious and irreplaceable and the death of a child is an unbearable sorrow that no parent should ever have to endure. Politics can sometimes divide us but there is a common human bond that unites us in sympathy and compassion at times of trial and in support for each other at times of grief.”

Mr Brown sat down to a sombre “hear hear”. It was impossible not to see the grief that radiated from those knotted shoulders. Everyone looking saw how losing a child sets you apart, marks you, pierces through all. The two men who so often trade ferocious attacks at PMQs have more in common than is apparent.

William Hague, his sonorous voice especially welcome, was the perfect man for this difficult job. He thanked Mr Brown for the offer to suspend the normal exchanges at PMQs. “Ivan’s six years of life were not easy ones. His parents lived with the knowledge for a long time that he could die young. But this has made their loss no less heartbreaking.”

Mr Hague passed on the Camerons’ gratitude to NHS staff, both those who had helped their son that morning but also every day since his birth. “Ivan suffered much in his short life but he brought joy and love to those around him,” said Mr Hague, “and as David himself has said in the past, for him and Samantha he will always be their beautiful boy.”

The Chamber was hushed. The emotion intense. MPs listened as Vince Cable, standing in for Nick Clegg, absent after the birth of his third son, delivered a short tribute. At 12.06, the Speaker suspended the House until 12.30 as a mark of respect for Ivan, the first time such a thing has been done for a child.

Mr Brown, who normally rushes out, stood by himself behind the Speaker’s Chair, waiting for Mr Hague. When he arrived, the Prime Minister put his hand on his back and they walked out together. Everyone else milled around, not knowing what to do.

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