Complex feelings wrap days of remembrance, mourning

Opinion

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 18/09/2022 (828 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

When I was a little girl, I remember sleeping at my Amma’s house and waking early to watch Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson get married and, of course, all of the extravagance and custom that a royal wedding brings.

My grandmother gushed about the royal affair, talking about Fergie as though she knew her in some way, and ohhing and ahhing over the opulence of it all.

(This, of course, was well before the disgraced prince, who had ties with Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell, was accused of sexual abuse against a 17-year-old girl.)

In 1986, the Royal Family seemed like a real-life version of the characters in my bedtime stories. I never thought much of them outside of big events, and my grandmother wasn’t a die-hard loyalist in her everyday life. It was only when the big things would happen within the monarchy — weddings and babies — she jumped on the royal bandwagon, and I happily rode along with her.

She had framed stamps of Charles and Diana hanging in her dining room. (I think her brother, my uncle Tom Bjarnason, had been commissioned to paint them, but I can’t be sure.)

Queen Elizabeth always sort of reminded me of my Amma. They didn’t really look alike, but they had the same soft-looking wrinkled skin, and they both dressed impeccably. Both existed in my forever, meaning I’d never not known life without them in it.

Of course, I had a real relationship with my Amma, while the queen has just been a figurehead and a picture on my money. But they were always there. I think, most of all though, the reason the queen reminded me of my grandma was because I have such vivid memories of taking in big royal events on the little TV in the den.

That was a lifetime ago.

Earlier this month, when Elizabeth died at 96, Amma was the first person I thought of. A pang of grief washed over me, not for the queen, but for my grandmother. She died in 2015, also at 96.

When the queen died, her death marked the end of an era. It made me think of my grandmother, and then of the little girl who had watched royal weddings and anticipated royal births with her. And then I thought about my other grandmother — the one who died before I could even remember her, yet who has shaped many aspects of my being.

I thought of how vastly different her life was: a residential school survivor who was so utterly shattered and broken by the abuse and cruelty she suffered in her life, and a darkness that followed her until death.

Reflections of a past that are completely different, yet intertwined.

I have complex feelings, as the world mourns for the queen. Death and loss are sad. I feel a true sadness for the family and loved ones who are grieving. However, the queen’s passing has also shone a spotlight on the British monarchy’s role in colonialism and imperialism throughout the world.

Some would argue now is not the time to talk about this, but I think now is the exact time to talk (and learn).

Canada has a dark legacy when it comes to the treatment of Indigenous people that continues today, and the British Empire is part of that.

Free Press colleague Niigaan Sinclair wrote a powerful piece about the queen shortly after she died. In it, he outlines her inaction on Indigenous issues, saying: “For the past 70 years, the queen was the constitutional head during much of Canada’s worst atrocities perpetrated against Indigenous communities: residential schools, the theft of millions of acres of Indigenous land, and a litany of other genocidal legacies.”

I felt those words. The traumas inflicted on my ancestors still run through my veins.

I have read many impactful stories, news and opinion pieces since the queen died. I have witnessed a lot of people speaking out on social media — some who are grieving the loss, and others who are not. Beyond that though, there are other feelings and thoughts attached to this gigantic moment in history, and they are complex.

As I try to understand my own feelings, I know one thing for certain; these conversations, no matter how uncomfortable, are important. They’re a step towards understanding and acknowledging the past and moving forward in a way of reconciliation.

shelley.cook@freepress.mb.ca

Twitter: @ShelleyACook