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Writer's pictureCathie Rooyen

A queue for grief

Sunday 18th September 2022


Today I managed to keep my feet off the ground for most of my waking hours. My toe feels a lot better for the rest and I managed to get some of my bleh admin sorted.  In the background I had the queue for the Queen on the TV.


I was amazed at how quiet it all was. Thousands of people and not a sound. No wailing, no deep crying,  no huge display of grief. Just the longest line of suppressed emotions in typical British style.  I watched the robot cameras zoom in to some faces searching for tear shots. Sometimes the sadness was etched deeply into the faces.  Those glimmers grabbed my heart. My own latent grief so neatly packed away but accessible at a flickers notice. Collective grief compounded and being displayed publicly on the Queen.


Nobody gets through life without a brush of grief. Some unfortunates get painted with it at a young age. But if we have loved, we run the risk of grief. This is what I think is happening over the British Isles with the Queen's passing. It's not just a matter of the death of the monarch,  it's touching the individual's raw spot of pain. Not everyone is a Royal family supporter, but everyone loses a loved one at one stage. 


I was fortunate enough to spend the evening in happier energy,  having dinner with my two nephews and my brother in law. I'm feeling so blessed to have all these amazing moments with my family and I'm so grateful for every day.


It was dark when we left the restaurant and the streets of Paisley were quiet. Tomorrow is a Bank Holiday for the Queen's funeral and it feels like there's a delicate poignancy in the air. But I might be deliberately looking for it,  although right now I'm looking for my pillows.

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