Allow me this bit of strange candor, which is that I am deriving a bit of perverse joy in commemorating the life of someone who today left this good Earth, but whose legacy of goodness and strength will live forever.
Queen Elizabeth II died today. We heard that all four of her children many of her grandchildren had been summoned to her bedside in Balmoral Castle. When I heard that I knew immediately that the end was at hand.
Then she was gone. Prince Charles has become King Charles III.
But as I watch the news and the telling of her life story, I am filled with a sort of relief I am getting from the suspension of interest in tempest, turmoil, The Big Lie and its consequence, of insurrection and a special master, of the unsettled political climate in this country.
Instead, I am relishing the reporting of a life well-lived and of the profound difference the world’s most recognizable monarch made on her country and those she touched throughout her 70-year reign as Her Majesty the Queen of England.
We all will return in due course to the twists and turns of contemporary life. It’s a hell of a ride we’re on, right? For the moment, though, I am going to focus on the life of a monarch who — as near as I can tell — was among those rarest of public officials.
You see, Queen Elizabeth II was held in seemingly universal esteem. All this coverage of her life and the affection she earned throughout the world is giving my frayed nerves a chance to recoup and recover.
How in the world does it get better than that?
I likely won’t wait too long before wading back into the rip tide of madness that occupies so much of our attention these days. For now, though, I am going to relish the tributes pouring in to honor a truly great world figure.