Your Majesty,
The fact that you continued to serve the Realm almost until the day of your death was unsurprising; you could’ve retired your crown years ago, but felt that your subjects needed you. And they did. Say what some may about the idea of a royal family in modern times, but the truth is that without you… Britain would be quite boring. Pardon the offence.
As a teenaged princess, you witnessed your country defy an evil, alone, at a crucial time. Perhaps this experience added to a fortitude that enabled you to effectively reign over an England quite different from the empire of your childhood, a land rapidly changing while simultaneously clinging to tradition. You represented that tradition, but sentiment was in fact the barest base of your many duties. You were a competent constant through many tumultuous times, and I daresay that you would’ve been a more effective governor than many of the prime ministers of your lifetime.
You possessed and projected a strength that few – if any – of your male predecessors had. A true strength, augmented by intelligence and compassion. Your grace and dignity shone brighter and brighter in a world that became less and less graceful and dignified. You kept your shit together when the country, the world – even your own family – couldn’t. As a royal and as a woman, you were sadly one of the last of your kind.
Elizabeth – may I call you Elizabeth, just once? – your love of children, of animals, of your country literally preceded you. I loved occasional revelations of fabulous sense of humour, and I don’t know how you managed to conceal such a big pair of brass balls under those skirts and gowns. You were not only an English monarch, you were arguably the world’s matriarch.
With that, I will take the liberty to say goodbye, my queen.
