Not a phrase I ever thought I’d write: it was Billy Idol who put it best.
Amidst the outpouring of grief, he wrote: “The Queen passing made me think of my mum Joan Broad who passed two years ago, both born of the same era and lived their lives with cool, dignity and grace.”
Without us really thinking about it, the Queen was part of all our lives –both centre stage, and quietly, constantly, in the background.
There on ordinary, tangible things we touched every day, like stamps and coins.
There on the Buckingham Palace balcony, surrounded by her ever-growing, changing family, at all the jubilees and royal weddings we watched on telly with our own growing, changing families.
So in the loss of the Queen, of course we feel all our own losses… of parents, grandparents, and times gone by.
As actor Robert Lindsay tweeted on Thursday: “Why oh why do I feel like I’ve lost my parents again?”
Presenter Anneka Rice echoed the sentiment, saying: “For some reason I am weeping for my Dad. We’d have stood together for the National Anthem.
"I hope you’re all OK as this will make lots of you feel very sad and untethered for all sorts of reasons. Loss, wherever it comes from, is a profound thing.”
If many of us are unexpectedly shedding a tear, suddenly crumbling at the sight of the cortege, imagine how her family feel, especially the one man not given a chance to grieve.
No wonder he said it was the moment he was dreading.
The artist formerly known as Prince (Charles) is now King. But underneath that, he is something far more important. A human being. However, while all kinds of arrangements have been long in place regarding the former, the latter is to all intents and purposes being ignored.
Let’s not forget that Charles lost his father only last year. Now, an enormous new influx of grief to add to his pile.
The nation is devastated by the Queen’s death, and most of us never even met her.
This man is her son. And yet the show must, apparently, go on, folks!
Less than 24 hours after his mother took her last breath, Charles had to travel to London to meet the Prime Minister, before being officially proclaimed at St James’s Palace, on live TV.
What exactly is the rush? The country isn’t going anywhere.
There’s not going to be a leadership contest where he has to battle Rishi Sunak for the job.
He’s King the moment the previous monarch dies, this red tape could easily be delayed as a mark of respect, decency, humanity.
Surely even the most ardent royalist would happily give this man a private period to mourn away from the eyes of, you know, the entire world.
The times have a-changed, and royal protocol needs to adapt as well. Tradition shouldn’t be broken, but couldn’t it bend slightly?
Forcing someone who became an orphan to immediately go out in public, hold meetings, interact with strangers with pretty much every set of eyes on the globe fully focused on him is nothing short of cruel.
A unique kind of torture.
Yes, it’s his duty and he wouldn’t dream of not fulfilling it, especially as the word ran through his beloved mother like a stick of rock. The point is that he shouldn’t have to.
Give him a few days, a week at least, to grieve this profound loss behind closed doors. The tribute to the Queen that would matter most of all.
After his red-eyed, brave-faced appearances all weekend, Charles will now – yes, you are reading this right – embark on a UK tour, like a boy band.
It will kick off with a visit to the Scottish Parliament before a service at St Giles’ Cathedral in Edinburgh, then North-ern Ireland and Wales.
Everyone he meets will undoubtedly be extremely well intentioned… but again, what’s the rush? Will the sympathy expire if not expressed immediately?
And then he will take to the world stage for the funeral, which on top of his schedule of the previous week – gruelling for anyone, let alone a 73 year old in mourning – must be daunting.
We can all imagine how difficult a public funeral must be, which Prince Harry has confirmed.
And while a septuagenarian following his mum’s coffin won’t have quite the same impact as that 12 year old in an oversized suit at Diana’s, the facts are the same. He’s lost his mum.
Have a heart. Trust that we – the Queen’s people – will understand, because we will. We already do. We’ve all been there.
When my dad died, in 2012, many people wanted to pay their respects.
He’d been a Labour MP in two constituencies, one in the South, one in the Midlands, and his colleagues in both Parliament and the Lords wanted to remember him too.
There were five memorial services, one televised and broadcast abroad.
The funeral home we used had just been refurbished, my dad was the first person in their chapel of rest, and they decided to name the room after him, which meant another ceremony.
I released doves on nearly a daily basis. All of it was so well meant, so loving, so kind. It was also agony. All I wanted to do was pull the duvet over my head and weep.
Clearly my obligations were not even 000000000000.1% of what Charles faces, but if it was that testing for me, how can it not be a bazillion-fold for him?
The days of the royal stiff upper lip have to move to the past. Grief is grief, whether you’re a King, a cashier, a mum, or anything in between.
There is time enough for Charles to fulfil his obligations. Compassion must be the order of the day. Allowances made, bereavement leave given, like it is in the majority of other jobs.
The Queen would expect things to be done in the correct way. But surely she’d also want to make sure her boy is well looked after too, especially now she’s not here to do it herself.
