My mission to cover a nation in mourning has come down to analyzing what those fleeting seconds mean to this society, from the upper echelons of the British aristocracy to newly arrived immigrants hoping to make a better life in a new country. The 10 days I’ve spent here since Elizabeth’s death have taken me from the luxurious interiors of Windsor Castle – the official residence of the royal family – to forgotten areas beyond the hustle and bustle of London, the glamorous British capital. I stand in line for hours with strangers devoted to the queen and desperate to say a final goodbye. He stood in the rain with thousands hoping to catch a glimpse of the hearse whizzing towards the imposing gates of Buckingham Palace. I have seen countless tears shed by young and old, from people as far away as South Africa to as close as the English city of Reading. In the spaces between committed and apathetic, I have encountered Britons who are ambivalent or undecided about the importance of the monarchy in their lives — or completely indifferent. Diaspora communities, whose ancestors suffered from the brutalities of British colonialism, are still struggling to come to terms with this legacy. A younger generation of immigrants has yet to reconcile this violent history with their own identity as British. Some have told me that they see themselves as “Londoners”—identifying with the cosmopolitan capital—but not as “British,” part of the United Kingdom whose monarch is the head of state. I’ve also met people who honestly don’t care. Some planned weekend getaways to avoid the crowds erupting over the late monarch. A relentless barrage of Twitter memes poke fun at the Queen’s death. However, history loomed large inside St George’s Chapel in Windsor on Monday, the day of Elizabeth’s funeral. Founded in the 14th century by King Edward III, the ornate chapel has belonged to the monarchy for 1,000 years. It has been the scene of many royal events, from funerals to christenings and royal weddings such as that of Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex. The elaborate stonework draws the eye to the ellipse-shaped ceiling, the irreplaceable and meticulous woodwork marks the path to the catafalque. Here, the chapel’s head clerk told a group of reporters how every step of the engagement, a more intimate gathering compared to the state funeral at Westminster Abbey, was carefully planned by the Queen. Every hymn was her choice, except the last one. The removal of the crown was a great moment, the official explained. Although immersed in the spectacle of royal splendor, it embodies a powerful moment of change: moving from the sovereign’s coffin to the altar, only to return to the head of a new sovereign – King Charles III – when he is crowned. However, the vast majority of the country does not know the intimate details of the life of the late monarch they loved – they have spent their entire lives watching from afar. “We couldn’t get as close as we would have liked to see it properly,” said Rachel Mfundiri, who was still standing outside the castle’s imposing gates after Elizabeth’s burial. He had come to see the story, but now that it was over, he didn’t know exactly where to go. “It’s kind of unknown what will happen next, to see how the monarchy changes,” he said, as the first raindrops of the day began to fall. “It’s sad, very sad.” In London, it was business as usual. Restaurants and bars were buzzing with tourists until the late hours. At a bar, a singer dressed in 1930s clothing raised a glass — “to our lovely queen,” she said, and followed, “but I can’t dedicate this next song to her.” He broke into the George Michael tune as the audience cheered. I found support for the late queen in unexpected places. Inside London’s cathedral, an old photograph of Elizabeth’s father, King George VI, is pasted next to bulletins announcing recent events. The late king had opened the Islamic Cultural Centre, now part of the grand mosque complex, in 1944 in recognition of Muslim efforts to fight alongside the British Empire during World War II. “We have always had strong ties with the monarchy,” said Ayaz Zuberi, a spokesman for the mosque. Even among Elizabeth’s staunch supporters, it was not possible to generalize the individual reasons for wanting to commemorate her years of service. For many it was personal: A family member had recently died, a deep sense of respect remained. Or, in Mili Patel’s case, wanting to show her young daughter the importance of the past. Patel had folded up her lawn chair and was walking away from the lawn of the Long Walk, the procession leading to Windsor Castle. She had come with her daughter Sybill, arriving at 5am and staying for 12 hours to see the Queen – or at least her coffin – for the last time. “She will be the last queen in (my daughter’s) generation,” she said. “I wanted him to see it.” —- Follow all AP stories about Britain’s royal family at
