Strength and Stay...

... for Knots in the String

Our Queen died whilst I slept.

Here in Australia, it was only just dawn and the birdsong was soft and gentle.

When I read the headline on my phone, my eyes glossed over it and then jerked back and I remember grunting a visceral breath, as if I had been punched in my middle. The tears came instantly.

It was perhaps not surprising to read the news, because Elizabeth II was frail and ninety six and had visibly declined after the death of her adored Philip. That she deserved to pass away peacefully is undeniable. That she deserves our admiration is surely beyond doubt.

I scanned social media and found most of my friends were as sad as myself. Most of course, are UK citizens and their ties to the Monarchy are no doubt stronger even than my own. But I took strength from their respect, their loyalty and even their sadness because I could see I wasn’t alone.

Later, I took the terrier for a walk in the rain, saying to myself that it’s exactly what the Queen would have done – donned a mac and wellies, calling the dogs and relishing the soul-time to herself. We headed for the pine glade track, the one I mentioned last time, and because of the rain, our footsteps were quieter, the surrounding air silent of birdsong, like the holy hush in a soaring cathedral.

The trees, pine, blackwood and wattle, were bent with the weight of rain and in my fanciful state, I likened it to being bowed down with grief, the drizzle like tears.

The rain eased when we reached the beach and the sea for once was glassy, with a trail of royal red seaweed edging part of the coast as a nor-easterly weather band drifted in. The only birds in evidence were a small squadron of five hooded dotterels who swept out to sea to curve back into land behind us.

The terrier was good – quieter than normal, perhaps understanding that I wasn’t quite myself. I chatted to him, as one does with one’s dog and that was enough. As displacement, he found a huge stick and carried it all the way home. It’s his way…

I wondered about my strong belief in and affection for the Monarchy as I walked. It goes back to my life in that self-same place on the coast as a child. In the dark and cold nights of winter, the fire would pulse and crackle in the fireplace, smells of roast beef and a Queen Pudding would drift on the after-airs of dinner and my Mum would sit with me and we would leaf through my grandmother’s royal books which were on shelves either side of the fire. From a very early age I learned about Victoria and Albert, Mary and George V, George VI and Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother, about Elizabeth II and Philip, Charles and Anne, about the palaces and the role of a constitutional monarchy. I learned about duty, love, sacrifice and resilience and saw it hundreds of times over in my own mother.

That was the emotive parallel.

In my mother, I saw our Queen, and in our Queen’s death, I saw my mother. So this day, as I walked and then later watched an evening coverage from the UK, I grieved for the Queen and I grieved for my Mum and for my Mum-in-Law because they were all of a brilliant generation of strength, purpose and devotion.

I’d like to think it’s been passed on.

I believe it has been with Charles, Anne and Edward, William and their spouses.

And I’ll support them because I believe that in this splintering world which seems to have become more entitled and less loving, often rude and intrusive, and which has lost its way, that we need a strong, insightful and impartial leadership such as the late Queen gave us.

As I listened to King Charles this morning, I believe he will put his whole heart into exactly that and the Queen Consort will prove to be his strength and stay.

Long Live the King…

As I watched the news coverage from the UK, I stitched myself a little heart to carry in my bag always, to remind me of ‘strength and stay’. Of the many profound words delivered by the late Queen, these are my favourites because for me they give courage in adversity and I think we all need that from time to time.