It’s been a strange week. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II has been a constant throughout my life, albeit in the background. Not having grown up in the UK, I never imagined that I’d live in the city where an official procession and memorial service would take place.
As an American, I usually don’t weigh in on matters involving the Royal Family because I don’t hold strong feelings for or against them. I am roughly the same age as Prince William, my sister the same as Prince Harry, and my mother the same as Princess Diana.
Diana’s death hit my mother hard, mostly because she thought of the young princes growing up without their mother. In this, I think we all can agree that younger members of the Royal Family will deeply feel the loss. The parents of the young children will mourn the memories they will never get to make. I remember that when my own beloved great-grandmother died at age 98, I felt a deep sense that the world had shifted on its axis, but I was happy and relieved that she was no longer suffering and was finally at peace.
A day already cloaked in grief
I feel this, too, about the passing of the Queen. I am glad she finished her days at Balmoral, as she had reportedly wished to do for some time, and I hope that gives her family and those who loved her a sense of peace.
The Queen’s body will arrive at Holyrood Palace on 11 September, a day already cloaked in grief. Perhaps it is fitting that this day when many in the UK are grieving the end of an era, the world is remembering and reflecting on the grief of that sad day as well.
It’s not yet time, in my opinion, to speak about the future of the monarchy or to debate the impact that the British Empire continues to have on the Commonwealth. During this time of national mourning, I will be remembering a woman who did her best, which is the highest compliment I can pay to any person at the end of their life.