Shock, sadness, disbelief, overwhelming grief; the range of emotions over the last two weeks has been enormous. The death of the Queen has had a profound effect on millions of people.
Yet, to lots of people, the Queen felt like a member of the family, which perhaps explains why the grief has been so deep.
Her death came in the same week that I’d attended the funeral of my uncle.
On the Monday we had gathered in the beautiful church at St Just-in-Roseland to say farewell to him. Just a few days later the Queen had passed away. It added to the overall sense of loss I was already feeling.
My uncle was 91 and had lived in the same house for all but one of those 91 years. He was still mentally sharp right to the end, but physically he’d become increasingly frail.
But like the Queen he’d been determined to try to keep going. He was from the same generation, a generation that rarely complained no matter how tough things became.
He was a great admirer of the Queen and everything she stood for. He loved watching the great state occasions.
In recent days, as I have watched the coverage of the Queen’s death and funeral, I have thought a lot about him.
But among all the sadness there was a moment when a few words lifted my spirits.
At my uncle’s funeral someone said to me that we should consider it a celebration of his life rather than the marking of his death. It turned the whole thing around for me.
The same phrase came up when I was presenting a programme on BBC Radio Cornwall the day after the Queen had died.
I was chatting to callers about their memories of the Queen and inviting them to share their thoughts on her death. One caller echoed what had been said at my uncle’s funeral. She said she would be celebrating the Queen’s life and all she had done for the country, rather than grieving her loss. In an instant that sentiment lifted the mood.
Despite that, it was still a hard programme to present. I was acutely aware of the raw emotions listeners were experiencing and therefore the need to set the right tone.
I was also still thinking about the loss of my uncle, so had my own feelings to keep under control. There were many times I had a lump in my throat as I read out tributes to the Queen from the listeners.
Those emotions are not something anyone can really prepare for, despite all the years of planning for a Royal death I’d gone through when I was a full-time BBC employee.
For a long time it was my job to compile our Royal obituaries. We needed to have material ready to show in the event of the death of a senior member of the Royal Family.
Every so often I would go through our video and film archive and update the stories of the many visits made to the South West by the Queen, Prince Philip or the Duke of Cornwall.
In 2001 there was increasing concern about the health of the Queen Mother.
I was due to go on holiday in the September and my boss wanted to make sure her obit was up-to-date in case anything happened while I was away. I dutifully checked and assured the editor that what we had on standby was okay and off I went on holiday.
One day as we returned to our accommodation in a remote corner of Spain, the owner came out to tell us a major event had happened and we should turn on the TV.
My immediate thought was the Queen Mother had died and after all that planning I wouldn’t be at work to report this historic moment. It turned out to be the awful tragedy of the terrorist attacks on the twin towers in New York.
On another occasion I was at a meeting with BBC managers to discuss our plans in the event of the death of the Duke of Edinburgh.
Once again I reassured the bosses that our obit for Prince Philip was up-to-date.
I even made the comment that we would probably have plenty of time to make any changes to it because at his great age he was likely to pass away quietly and we’d be given enough notice. I went on to say to the Spotlight editor that the Duke was unlikely to be in a serious car crash for instance.
I left the meeting and went back to my desk. No sooner had I sat down than an urgent news flash appeared on my screen: “Car crash at Sandringham – more to follow”. Yes, minutes after I had said Prince Philip’s hardly likely to be in a car crash, Prince Philip was in a car crash! Remarkably he walked away unscathed.
The Duke lived for another two years and did eventually die peacefully from old age. His subsequent funeral was a celebration of his life and the things he loved.
Likewise, in planning my uncle’s funeral, we decided to include some of the things he loved including music by the 1930s dance band the Savoy Orchestra. At first I thought it would be too light and upbeat for a funeral, but it was perfect. We also played a version of the song “Cornwall My Home”.
Afterwards we had a proper Cornish cream tea in his honour, which we all agreed he would have been very disappointed he’d missed. Suddenly the room was full of laughter, a reminder that in the midst of sadness we often have the capacity to find something to smile about.
It was jam first by the way. My uncle would never have forgiven us if it had been served the Devon way. Bye for now.