It’s been a rough four days for most of the world.
I have never known a time when Elizabeth II was not on the throne of England. She was England in my mind. Her quiet dignity personified all that the British aspire to be–calm, capable, and resilient. She lived through war, personal and national loss, and always kept that “stiff upper lip” firmly in place. Elizabeth lived for the nation, not for herself, and her duty was always foremost in everything she chose to do.
My mother was within a few months of the Queen’s age, and the two of them seemed related in my young mind. I am named after Elizabeth, and have tried to live up to the name, though I often fall short. Her reign has lasted longer than that of any monarch, yet we still wish we had been granted a few more years with her.
Elizabeth’s love for her husband also provided the world with an ideal to aspire to. I don’t remember seeing Elizabeth without Phillip somewhere in the background, silently supportive, always loving.
No matter what happened, Elizabeth seemed capable of dealing with it. Bombings? Personal tragedy? Shootings? Dealt with, and capably so. She embodied what every Englishman aspired to become. Even her quiet sense of humor inspired us to laugh with her, not at her. Elizabeth II showed the world what it meant to be a true ruler, to do one’s duty without fuss or bother, to keep that “stiff upper lip” through whatever may come.
The queen is dead. And we are all the poorer for it.
