Princess Diana: 16 Years Later, Stirs My Heart

by ellen scarano · 

Sometimes I think of her as a princess, a modern character in the centuries old Royal Family of Great Britain.

Mostly I think of her as Diana.

There’s no irreverence meant. She was a few years younger than I and we were pregnant at the same time. We were peers—except for fame, wealth and her incredible figure. Oh, and her husband was a prince, the next king. Other than that, we could have passed for…cousins.

I have an ongoing interest in the British royals because my dad always told me that we were related to them through his Scottish side of the family, somewhere way back in history. Going through the public courtship and royal wedding and expecting babies together was a thread of a link, however fanciful.

Admittedly, wondering what it’s like to live in a palace, have loyal servants, have tea with the queen, have beautiful custom-made evening dresses and places to wear them, to wander the world at will and have a prince for a husband visited my imagination.

But the more profound connection came later, woman to woman, wife to wife.

I watched Diana move through her very public marriage. Not a fan of Prince Charles, I was glad to see that they seemed genuinely in love. They had two beautiful boys to complete a traditional family; I assumed there was room for more. Diana was beautiful, sweet, kind and unaffected by the fame, making a life in her royalty as a charitable princess.

It seems Charles practically flaunted his relationship with Mrs. Camilla Parker-Bowles in his young wife’s face. He took advantage of Diana’s innocence, loyalty, trust, youth, lack of experience in public life…and her love. After hearing that he was “seeing” Camilla, I lost all respect for him.

Diana’s infamous interview where she said, “Well, there were three of us in this marriage so it was a bit crowded,” meant that she saw the truth about Charles and their marriage and her precarious place in it. She seemed willing to fight for the family within the marriage, but one cannot fight if the opponent walks away, as Charles did, emotionally if not physically. I often referred to Charles with derogatory terms.

There was no doubt Diana loved her boys passionately. Real princes, they were her boys and she wanted them influenced by healthy relationships–starting at home.

Was Diana flawless? No. She had depression and bulimia and an affair—all of them coping mechanisms. I could understand why she had these problems, how she felt isolated and rejected. Any wife could appreciate the potential for similar events in her own life. I sincerely hoped she could get well.

Diana lived her life in the international public eye, constantly hounded by the press.

I was aware that she was used and abused by photographers who cashed in on her fame. One of the first pictures of her after their engagement was intentionally used as a “gotcha,” exploiting her as a sexual object instead of a respectable young woman, caught unaware by the sunlight behind her. If I’d been the editor, I would not have used the photo.

On the night of the car crash in Paris, the news broke into the show I was watching to report that Diana’s apparent injury was a slash in her thigh. Briefly relieved, hopeful this was a manageable injury, I prayed she would be all right. Then the live pictures of the crash scene were on TV and doubt set in.

Less than an hour later, reports said Diana was dead.

It was so unfair, so wrong, so mean and totally unexpected. She seemed to have found happiness after divorce. She was young, only 36 — still lovely and vibrant with a flair for giving and shining in her charity work. She started over. Diana was living as Elton John’s optimistic song says:

Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did,
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid.
I’m still standing after all this time,
Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind.

I cried. Sad for her boys. Sad that her happier times were cut short. Sad for all of us who admired her.

I was sad that her story was over and I wouldn’t be able to see her become old and finished with raising her boys, her work with charities and the focus only she could bring to them, getting married again, and enjoying her future grandchildren.

Diana would love to know her adult boys, Princes William and Harry, William’s wife, Kate, and the new baby grandson, George. I hope we are kinder and more considerate of them than we were to Diana.

I can’t help it. I still miss her.

Originally published on Aug. 31, 2013 at ThoughtfulWomen.org

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