It was 1985 when I first saw her. My aunt from London brought me a memorabilia from her wedding. She was in her elegant wedding dress and was wrapped in the arms of her prince. I never had a clue that she was real. All along, I thought that the princess in the picture was just one of those princesses in my fairy tale story books. At my young age, I already admired her. Her smile seemed like a radiance of joy. Her blue, expressive eyes communicated love (perhaps, bliss at the time of the photo). She exuded an aura of warmth. I wanted to be like her. Perhaps, one was because of the gown, but more than that, there was something in her I can't seem to explain, but I do admire. Perhaps her person.
There was not much that I heard from her, except from the stories that I hear from my aunt whenever she comes home from England. I did hear that her marriage fell apart, which though I did not pay much attention to, bothered me a little. Seemed like her fairy tale did not end the way it normally should.
In 1997, my heart broke when I learned that she lost her life due to a car crash in Paris. I hope she'd live, but that may be too much for a happy ending. Diana's life was always coveted for--the fame and the power; the glitter and the glamour. Although, in reality it wasn't a fairy tale after all. Nevertherless, I do admire her strength and simplicity. More than anything I salute her courage for standing by her principles amid the pressure of all the people around her. Whilst the whole world is amused by the role that she plays in the fairy tale that is they make us believe, she struggled to be herself. Despite the turmoils, she managed to play her parts well--as a mother, as a member of the royal family--and was beloved by humanity.
Indeed, her life was likened to a fairy tale, although not much on the happily-ever-after.
To the lady, whom I once admired, may you have found your place. May peace rest in you, wherever you are, far from conformity and judgment.
