My family and I were at our house in New Hampshire, enjoying Labor Day weekend – the last weekend before summer unofficially ended and we’d head back to school.
I woke up that morning and as I walked from my room down to the family room the house was completely silent. Usually my grandfather would be making breakfast, the ladies would be fighting over who should make the next pot of coffee, and my dad and uncle would be trying to stay out of everyone’s way.
I walked down the stairs and into the living room – where I found my mother, aunt, and grandmother crying. My dad, uncle, and grandfather were all leaning against the wall – their hands covering their mouths. Everyone looked devastated, and was glued to the TV.
I sat down on the floor, without asking what was going on, and watched the news broadcast with the rest of my family and found out that Princess Diana had died in a terrible accident earlier that morning.
I was only 10, but I felt a loss that morning. I was already at the age where I was starting to become completely enthralled by European History and the monarchies that still existed. I knew who Princess Diana was (and I had a massive crush on her son, William), and I knew that she was making huge things happen in the world with her charity work. If I’m being honest, I didn’t feel her loss as profoundly as I do now – but I knew that the world had lot a very, very important person. A special person. A determined, kind-hearted, magnificent humanitarian. I knew that somewhere, thousands of miles away, there was a family that was absolutely crushed and torn apart. And that they’d have to bear it in the public eye.
I didn’t know her. My family didn’t know her. But Princess Diana had ingratiated herself into the lives of people who had never met her. Not only did we cry for William and Harry day, but we cried with them. Those two young boys had lost their mother, and the world lost its biggest advocate for the infirmed, homeless, disabled, and outcast.
May you Rest In Peace, Diana, Princess of Wales, knowing that your legacy lives on. Your boys have grown into strong, capable, admirable men. They, along with your brother, your family, and your vast legions of friends and fans, have ensured that your memory will not be forgotten, and that your determination to make a difference and speak for those who can’t speak for themselves will live on.
