At moments of great significance one often remembers where one was when first hearing about what had happened. In my lifetime two such events were the death of Diana, Princess of Wales and the 9/11 terrorist attacks in the United States of America. To that list people of my parents’ generation would add the assassination of President Kennedy. What those three moments in history all share is that they were completely unexpected; part of what made them significant was not just the awfulness of what had happened but the shock which accompanied it.
I learned of the death of Her Late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II from a notification on my phone whilst at a work event in London. News of the death of a ninety-six year old lady whom I had seen getting frailer as the years took their toll could hardly be described as unexpected and yet it was shocking nonetheless. The day had finally arrived which so many of us had convinced ourselves, even against all reason, would never come.
As I made my way from Canary Wharf to Green Park that soaking wet evening the sun was setting in the sky and I knew an epoch had drawn to a close. Just as we measure years before and after Christ, The Queen’s death will stand as a punctuation mark in my life. Yes, there is already a new King and his own succession is secure; life will go on of course but for those of us who have lived through the second Elizabethan age there will simply be before and after the day The Queen died; she was a constant, always there, and now she is gone.
Continue reading “The week the Queen died”