There’s nothing else I can write about tonight. I can’t stop thinking about her.
It makes so little sense….and so much sorrow.
It reminds me of the opening line from Love Story: “What can you say about a 25 year old girl who died?” Natasha Richardson was 45, but it doesn’t change the point—what can you say?
It’s a reminder of another beautiful British patrician princess from a famous dynasty,who also left behind two young sons and the shock of her senseless and sudden death.
It’s a reminder of the life-imitates-art scenes from the movie Love Actually–in which Liam Neeson plays a widower negotiating parenthood alone.
It’s a reminder of the irony that someone with so many gifts in life, may be best remembered for her death.
It’s a reminder that motherless children, like Prince William, never really get over the magnitude of their loss.
It’s a reminder that pain may become duller, but even deeper over the years.
It’s a reminder of my mother—who I see even now when I look at Natasha’s face.
It’s a reminder of my brother—the same age as Natasha’s older son when our mother died.
It’s a reminder of my father– who could never fill the hole left in his life, and in ours.
It’s a reminder of how fragile life truly is; that we all dangle by a thread.
Most of all it’s a reminder that all we have is this day—and each other.