Majesty
We’ll miss her, won’t we? For nearly all of us, Queen Elizabeth II has always been there, just like the sun and the moon and the morning mist.
Elizabeth became Queen in difficult circumstances. Her father, George VI, died far too young. Lung cancer. He had been a good king, decent, inspiring, courageous, but even kings can’t refuse when Death comes knocking.
At barely twenty-five years of age, Elizabeth stepped into her life-long career, perhaps one she may not have chosen, but one for which she turned out to be perfectly suited. Those of us, especially grumpy old men, who are too quick to dismiss bright young women early in their careers would do well to contemplate Elizabeth.
The monarch sits in a unique place in parliamentary democracies, in theory the supreme ruler, but in reality just a figurehead, a representation of the state, its history, and its grandeur. Whether or not a monarchy is an anachronism is the topic for another day, because today we simply honour a good woman and a job well done.
In her death and absence, we are reminded that she had earned the title “Majesty”, not by dint of pomp or dazzle, but for being the person her people needed her to be for nearly seventy-one years. She did her duty, faithfully, day in, day out, smiling when she was tired or ill or disappointed, giving inspirational speeches when needed, not when she felt like it. For over seven decades, she was “on deck”, “on call”, and always looked, well, majestic.
If the role of a monarch is to model all that is best, to lead by example, and to inspire hope, courage, and strength, then Elizabeth II was a success. While in many ways her role was anachronistic, in many others she demonstrated the steely, gracious strength of female leadership, the kind of which we need more.
Thank you, Your Majesty. We will miss you.