After seeing The Queen on April 28, I decided to capture the memory of where and when I heard the news about Princess Diana’s death. I enjoyed using “Once Upon a Time” paper that seemed perfect for scrapping about a princess and tried my hand at inking for the first time (a technique I can’t get enough of now).
Tonight, while watching The Queen, the memories of Princess Diana’s death came flooding back as though it happened yesterday. I can remember the moment exactly:
Freshman year of college at UNC Charlotte in Moore Hall. Angie and I were curled up in our beds watching Saturday NIght Live, like most other Saturdays since our college career began just a few short weeks prior. Breaking news of the car accident. We stayed up the entire night watching the grim reality of Diana’s death unfold. Shock. Tears. A feeling of emptiness. Total disbelief that I could feel so much grief over a woman I never met. I hadn’t felt that sad about a famous stranger since Jim Henson’s death and I wouldn’t feel it again until John Ritter died years later.
We spent the next week glued to the TV – before and after class, and sometimes instead of it – watching the nation mourn one of the classiest, unselfish, most compassionate people the world has ever seen. The woman who held her head high through it all. We couldn’t get enough of her in life, and it seemed we couldn’t get enough of her after death either. Perhaps we are thus all a little responsible for her tragic end. But it felt as though she belonged to all of us. And almost ten years later, it still does.