The Queen - Grief

As a nation in mourning, we buried our Queen, the Queen, on September 19th, 2022. But what did her death mean to the people? To Me? I think most people described a feeling of something significant, momentous, ending. She had been the only monarch on the throne of the UK that I had ever known. However, I was, until the moment her death was announced, unaware of the steadying influence her reign, or presence, held for me. At 6.30pm on Thursday September 8th, 2022, the world literally changed forever. It can often feel like that with our own personal bereavements. Where we wonder how the world does not know that someone we love has been taken from us, wonder how the clocks do not stop, wonder how the world still turns. In the case of the Queen, we had become aware in the afternoon, from posts my husband had read to me from his phone, that there were concerns for the Queen’s health. My husband and I switched on the TV searching for news, something we rarely did any more. We had started to actively limit and perhaps avoid news broadcasts since 2020 and COVID-19. A strategy meant to de-stress us and to stop the feelings of being constantly distressed. Instead we would dip in and out, mix and match, reading about national and international events on our phones, perusing the headlines perhaps, keeping it at bay, trying to stop us from feeling overwhelmed. The national news of the pandemic, troops leaving Afghanistan, NHS struggling to cope, change of Prime Minister, energy crisis, rising cost of living, change of Prime Minister (again). The local repercussions of more cuts and closures meaning reduced services resulting in less bus routes, limited access to libraries and NHS dentists and youth clubs closing. The international news of the war in Ukraine and the effect of Putin and Russia on the rest of the world, Britain’s relationship with Europe post-Brexit and the effect on trade deals as we looked towards the American market. No, we were aware of it all, but on the periphery now, keeping it contained, trying not to let it seep into our every day in every way. As we instinctively searched for BBC news, images of the Queen's children and grand-children rushing to be with her at Balmoral filled the screen. We watched as a plane landed, eventually saw a car rushing through the gates of the Queen’s Scottish residence - Prince William driving, Prince Andrew beside him in the front, Prince Edward and his wife in the back. The commentator drew attention to the stricken look on her face. Suddenly, back in the studio the newsreader, Hugh Edwards, was wearing a black tie. I was sure then that the Queen had died. Yet still I hoped I was wrong. We left the news on during the late afternoon as our son came home from school - discussed our feelings as a family about the possibilities that lay ahead. We had just finished tea. We were sitting together at the table when our son suddenly looked at the TV and read out the words on the screen - there was to be a message from Buckingham Palace. We rushed from our seats towards the now silent box in the corner of the room. Our worst fears rose again as we gathered in front of it. A moment later they were confirmed. The Queen had passed away peacefully at Balmoral earlier that day. Only Prince Charles and the Princess Royal had been at her bedside. Her other children and grand-children had not been able to get there in time. Of course, these were the details we wanted to know but learned of later - in that moment the message was that the Queen had died peacefully, long live the King. A seamless transfer of power from mother to son. Yet I was incredulous that the Queen had gone and that another had, or could, take her place. I found it so confusing, too difficult to articulate how emotional that felt. It surprised me, the depth of my feelings, how it felt like something was falling away, something that I had taken for granted perhaps, was now gone. In that moment when I heard the Queen had died I felt something was irrevocably changed and I felt unsure of the future. Perhaps this feeling reminded me of the death of my own mother in July 2019. That’s the thing with grief, it brings up other losses. There is the bereavement that is happening at the time and those that you have experienced before. I wasn’t consciously aware of my feelings about my mothers loss being entwined with that of mourning the Queen, but now I think they are. I am left to acknowledge my grief for both and ponder the sense of loss they leave me with.

Kay