27/09/2022
Resilience, determination, stamina: These were the three words that spun round my head at midnight as I entered Southwark Park with my son to pay my respects to the Queen lying in state.
Since the announcement of the Queen’s passing, I felt strangely compelled to join the queue and take the long walk to Westminster Hall.
Why?
For my son, I think, it was the fact that he wanted to be part of a monumental historical moment. For me, it became much more than that. A personal journey, a way of using the walk as a vehicle to say goodbye to the elements of my life which have been unsettling me over the last few years.
I had grown up with the Queen she was part of the fixtures and fittings in my life, the matriarchal figurehead of the nation and suddenly she wasn’t there. I was losing the things that had been constant in my life and this was leaving me with a feeling of insecurity, a subtle reminder of my own mortality and that time was passing me by.
You could hear the sounds of footsteps everywhere on the rubber matting in the park. With every step, different thoughts would come into my mind, thoughts about my childhood.
For example, growing up in 70’s Britain was very difficult at times. With the rise of the National front and gangs who gathered on the streets at times, it could be tough. Maybe this was the beginning of my insecurity, this lack of acceptance.
I was the only child of colour in my school for the first few years making me a target for many things. For a number of years, I had stones thrown at me and I was spat at whilst walking to the bus stop from school. This was during the late 70’s and early 80’s.
Don’t get me wrong, I still have very fond memories of growing up in the 70’s! The sense of freedom riding my chopper bike for hours and hours, playing on my extra-large blue space hopper and playing role play games pretending we were members of Starsky & Hutch, Charlie’s Angels or escaping from the Daleks from Dr Who with the other children from the neighbourhood on the streets.
1977 saw the Queens Silver Jubilee and it was a time for celebration. I remember making bunting at my school and being so excited at the thought of a giant party on the street.
Being a British born child from Sri Lankan parents it gave me courage to know that the Queen was the head of the Commonwealth as somehow, I felt more accepted into British society. The Queen had a great love and respect for the countries of the Commonwealth, I am grateful for that and I don’t think we will ever see another monarch like her, it feels like the end of an era.
So, I decided to walk, I decided to pay my respects. I also wanted to make this cathartic pilgrimage to lay to rest some painful issues of my own life that had occurred over the past two years, and it was time to finally let go.
Walking throughout the night meant that I was left in peace to consider my thoughts and with every step I felt my own life would be taking on a new journey.
There were times on this walk that I found difficult, it was bitterly cold at one point just before the break of dawn, but I could see a hotel serving coffee and croissants which soon raised my moral. It’s funny how the little things in life can make you so happy.
Approaching Westminster Hall, I felt anxious and weary at the same time; I reached out for my son’s arm giving me security and strength on the final steps of this journey.
The atmosphere inside felt very solemn and heavy as it felt like you could cut it with a knife. As I stood in front of the Queens casket, I said a little prayer. I also asked for my own troubles to be metaphorically laid to rest. This was a very symbolic moment for me, leaving to rest the things that were once constant in my life but now allowing my life to take on a new direction and a new journey.
I felt a great sense of relief and calm walking out of Westminster Hall.
Resilience, determination and stamina got me through the last fifteen hours but also much needed for my new journey ahead.
Rest in Peace your Majesty.