Sad

Diana, Princess of Wales.

I loved her.
From the first photograph of her I was entranced.
I saw her as beautiful, graceful, and everything a princess should be.

I remember her wedding day.
I was working in Ermelo – a small, conservative, rural town.
And the whole town came to a standstill. I took the day off and sat in front of the television, eating chips and drinking coke…in those days I could do this without it making any difference to my weight.
And this fairy princess glided down the avenue in her gilded coach. And her prince charming was waiting at the cathedral. And the crowds cheered. And I was supremely satisfied.

But Diana was more: she really cared for marginalised people; she hugged HIV/Aids victims; she sat with landmine victims in Mozambique and Angola; she saw the poor on the streets in Calcutta. This was clearly more than photo opportunities. Diana had a way of connecting with people of no significance.

Diana was also very, very human. She danced, and laughed, and enjoyed beautiful things. She was troubled, and angry, and depressed. She loved her children, fought with her in-laws, cried from loneliness, and was unfaithful to her marriage...All the things you and I know only too well in our own lives.

Diana was not hypocritical. She owned her life, mistakes and triumphs together.

Ten years ago she died. And I was sad.
Today (ten years later) I am again sad.