Her Majesty The Queen

It has been almost 24 hours since I learned of the Queen’s passing. My friends and I had been following the news closely as we learned that her doctors wanted her under supervision and that her children and some grandchildren were coming to her. We figured this was it, but were hoping we were wrong.

We weren’t.

When the word officially came, the breath in my lungs disappeared. I’ve written phrases like that for years now, but this was the first time I’d experienced it. When my grandmother died, my whole body went numb and my brain worked backwards. When my younger brother died, my twelve year old heart just ached. When my grandfather died, so did my childhood. When my other grandmother died, all I felt was confusion. When my aunt died, my eyes flooded and I cried for days.

The Queen was not related to me. Was not a friend or associate. Was not even an acquaintance. I had never met her. Never seen her in person. Never been in the same space at the same time she was present.

But my lungs lost their air when she died. My throat tightened. My eyes burned and I wanted to sit down on the floor of my office in the hospital. The physician I work for said that it was too bad, but he didn’t really care about the Royal Family.

That did not compute with my brain. I know people feel that way, but it is such a foreign concept to me that I could just blink at the response.

I cared. I deeply cared. I always have. I cannot remember not caring bout the Queen. I even dedicated The Lady and the Gent to her, just because I could as the writer and because I needed to somehow show my appreciation, devotion, and gratitude.

I knew she would never see it. I knew it would never even be on the radar of anyone close to her, let alone on hers. But I had to take the chance. I had to use the space I own to say something. I had to.

Because I cared that much. Because I still care that much. Because even now, writing this, I’m wiping away tears and watching episodes of The Crown and blubbering without shame.

How could I care so deeply about someone so remote and separate from me? Care enough that hearing of her death made my breath disappear and have me fighting tears at work, could make me want to go home and watch every tribute I could, make me want to listen to God Save the Queen on repeat while we could still sing the song that way, make me want to dress in black and sit in reverent silence while reality sank in…

This was the power of Queen Elizabeth II. She came to the throne in her 20s, an age when most young women are finding themselves, even if amidst marriage and children. When life is just beginning to make sense for them, when possibilities are opening up, when they begin to understand what kind of stride they can catch in their life. She became Queen of England. Her life confined to and defined by that role. Everything else she may have wanted to do or be or accomplished was gone. Now there could only be the Crown. She devoted herself to her people and her position, understanding all too clearly the strength it would take and the strife it could bring. She had watched her father do it, had seen what disaster it could bring with her uncle, and had to decide at that tender age what she wanted to do with it. What she could do with it.

Perhaps the only thing she had ever done for herself was marry the man she loved, Phillip. It was not a popular match, but she was determined, and she persevered. And what a companion he was for her! The steel in her spine and the support in her feet as she carried out her duties. He was always the single step behind, ready and waiting to serve, to aid, to give of himself to her and her calling as Queen.

We all saw the change in Her Majesty after his death. How she suddenly became a woman instead of a figurehead. A human instead of an icon.

I saw the same change in my grandmother when my grandfather died. How could there be one without the other?

It is only in the knowledge of their beautiful reunion that I find consolation now.

Multiple generations of families have only known the Queen as the monarch of England. What stability that has provided for her people and the world! Even when politics divide people and leaders, sometimes viciously so, she has been there, understanding the role of government and the role of monarchy among it. She has supported the leaders of government and advised with wisdom and understanding. She has suffered criticism and vilification from the public who did not understand her. She has endured speculation from the press and mockery from detractors. She has kept her dignity and sense of humor and quick wit nonetheless. She has been there 70 years and witnessed the changing of the world, and adjusted her ways and roles accordingly.

She has been extraordinary, nothing less.

From her birth as Her Royal Highness, Princess Elizabeth Alexandra Mary of York, to her end as Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II, she has never faltered. Never wavered. Never been anything less than an example of grace, dignity, class, devotion, and towering strength. She has inspired millions simply by the manner in which she chose to live her life, and by the faith with which she fully embraced each day of that life.

She may not have been a mother or grandmother to the world, in the sense we recognize. But she has been a familiar fixture, and a comforting presence. She has been the person we look for. The smile we seek. The wave we want.

She has been…

She has been.

We have loved and adored her, and she has given everything she has in return. As an adopted Brit and devoted Anglophile, I hurt in an inexplicable way when I think of her loss. The loss of her. What a loss. What a gaping, harrowing, bottomless chasm of a loss.

There is no distance, no separation, no remoteness in loss. We have lost a friend we could never call up in life. A grandmother we are not related to. An aunt whose table we have not sat at. A mentor who never directly taught us. A companion who had never sat with us.

But she was all of those things anyway. Closer than any stranger ought to be, further than any celebrity could be, and somehow a special charm each of us keep on the bracelet of our souls.

A piece of our heart we never knew we had has gone now. Returned home to heaven, reunited with her love, and finally, at long last, able to rest.

A life well lived, a heart well loved, a family well left behind, and even more family well received unto.

Could there be anything more comforting than that?

Now the song will change and the figure shift. Now the line moves up and the signature alters. Now there is a King and a Queen Consort. Now a slightly different wave and a completely different voice.

But all will go on, and, just as she illustrated, duty will prevail.

There are no words to express thanks enough, no song perfect enough to raise, no pomp or circumstance suitable enough to portray. But we will try. We will all try.

And from her now perfect, heavenly distance, she will still smile, still wave, and still give.

Somehow, in some way, that will be enough.

God bless and keep you, Your Majesty. Long may you eternally reign in our hearts and minds.

May you continue to be victorious, happy, and glorious.

God save the Queen.