Diana

On July 1, 1997, Diana, Princess of Wales, turned thirty-six. Three months later, I was about to do the same when she was killed in the car crash that changed the world.

The news reached Ter and me at a friend’s house, where we were having dinner to celebrate my imminent occasion. Everyone immediately left the table and pounded down to the rec room, where we spent the next two hours staring in horror at CNN. Halfway down the stairs, I had the most disturbing thought: They’ve done it. They’ve gotten rid of her.

Nowadays, there are people alive who have no idea of the effect Diana had on the world, but twenty years ago, you’d have been hard-pressed to find anyone who hadn’t heard of her. In some form, by some means, she was part of the global awareness, an incandescent light so powerful that she was almost combustible. Even now, two decades later, I almost believe she had to die young. Envisioning her at my current age is impossible and, as seems to be the case with every other intensely bright spirit, her private darkness was so overwhelming that a long life was hard to imagine. I took it for granted that she would age, of course, until that fateful night when her life was cut short.

I followed her public journey with the same interest as I follow anything royal—being one of Charlie’s girls apparently set me up with an eternal fascination for the monarchy—but Ter identified with the princess as she identifies with anyone in whom she senses a kindred spirit. Like Ter, Diana was a broken but ferocious spirit, as passionate as she was compassionate, and Ter was gutted when she died.

Astonishingly, so was I.

Of course, the circumstances played a part. The woman was truly hunted to her death, and without the protection of the Crown, she was easier if no less famous prey for the paparazzi. A crazy car chase, an allegedly impaired (however mildly and I still don’t believe it) driver, and suddenly the most famous woman in the world is tragically (prematurely?) dead. That in itself was horrifying and would have been so—is so—had anyone else been in that car. I don’t remember if or for how long Ter cried that night. I only know I didn’t start until the next day, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I felt bereft in a way I had no right to feel about a literal stranger. I did not know the Princess of Wales. Knowing of her is not the same thing, yet I wept as if we’d been sisters. And all the while, part of me was mystified as to why.

If we are all connected, then it’s simple. The grief each person felt was transmitted and amplified until the bulk of the world’s population was affected. Diana shone so fiercely that her light going out was equal to the Japanese earthquake that rocked the earth on its axis. Whether they knew it or not, everyone felt it on some level, and it stayed with us until her funeral six days later.

Ter and I got up at 1:00 a.m. to watch the procession from start to finish. We sniffled and sobbed through most of it. Neither of us will ever forget it—where we were, what we thought, how grateful we were to be together at the time.

The mystery of Diana remains as intriguing today as it was during her life. She was without doubt a star in the universal tapestry, and a threat to anyone she opposed. I’m not saying there was a conspiracy to kill her (and if there was, the royals would not be my prime suspects; rather the robber barons who make money off things like pestilence and landmines would be top of the list), but while the majority of the population mourned her passing, it’s entirely possible that a nefarious few breathed a sigh of relief. She was talented and tormented, beloved yet felt unloved, she was charismatic and caring and outspoken in defense of those who could not defend themselves. Ironically, her legacy is almost as strong as her influence in life, as her two sons strive to follow her example in all the right ways. Though hampered by the political restrictions of their social station, Princes William and Harry are somehow managing to carry on their mother’s charitable work, increasing public awareness of the human issues yet in play around the world, and standing in defence of those whom she brought to collective consciousness when her boys were still boys. Despite her personal struggles, or perhaps because of them, through her caring and her children, Diana made the world a brighter place for the rest of us.

That’s a royal legacy indeed.