It’s Saturday afternoon and I’m tired. I stayed up too late last night waiting until it was time to pick Makiya up from the youth center she goes to on the weekend. Gerry and I have an arrangement: I get up early with the dog, and he stays up late, as required, for the granddaughter. It usually works out well but last night we started watching something on BritBox (why, I don’t know because I didn’t especially enjoy it).
This morning I was up at 4:30 with Maya and turned on the television to watch the coronation. I’m a sucker for all that pomp and ceremony. There’s something special about ceremony and respect for tradition.
I watched some of it twice because I joined Gerry when he got up later. Seeing parts of the service the second time allowed me to pay attention to things I missed the first time around.
Like Harry, seated with his cousins Beatrice and Eugenie and spouses a couple of rows behind the choice seats occupied by his older brother, William, and his family, and uncle Edward and his wife Sophie. Regardless of what one thinks of the family rift, I found it sad to see it on display. (The King’s brother, Andrew, was at the other end of that row of non-working royals. I offer no sympathy in that direction.)
I’m no stranger to the sting of family conflict; there are examples of it in my adoptive and birth family history and, more recent and closer to home. I know enough to know everyone sees and experiences things differently. While sometimes estrangement is necessary, often it’s a result of misunderstandings and hurt feelings and things that could be resolved if all parties genuinely desired to heal the rift. But not everyone does. It’s unfortunate.
The King’s eyes also struck me as he glanced left and right during the procession out of Westminster Abbey after the coronation. He seemed to be intentionally taking everything in. Paying attention and being present in every moment. With the Main Event behind him, maybe he felt a measure more relaxed. Or maybe he was focusing on the weight of the crown on his head and trying not to drop the orb and scepter he carried. Who’s to say?
Did you watch the coronation? If so, what impressed you?
My Grandma L. used to say, “Heavy hangs the head that wears the crown.” I noticed King Charles bearing up under the hefty crown, which Google says weighs 5 pounds, encrusted with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious stones.
I heard one commentator refer to it as “walking with a baby on your head”. I can only imagine the headache the monarchs must have nursed at the end of the long day.