The Unofficial British Royal Family Pages

Sunday 11 July 2004

When I Saw Diana Cry

I swore my next column wouldn’t be about Diana. Every one I’ve written so far has been about the late Princess of Wales and I thought I’d break away from my favorite royal and explore someone else. But, amazingly, there continues to be timely news about a woman who died almost seven years ago. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. New information and pictures about Marilyn Monroe continue to be released. Even Wallis Windsor continues to evoke fascination in certain circles. And a terrific movie about Elizabeth I was just released in XX. Is Diana destined to share a spot in history with the likes of the Virgin Queen? It is a little surprising, considering the woman I saw when I was only 10 years old. Elizabeth I is a legendary, almost mythical figure. The Diana I saw was only a young girl, very human, with tears filling her eyes. 

I was visiting my father in Ottawa, Canada’s capital city, and I was at the height of my fascination with the princess. Begrudgingly, my father took me to see Charles and Diana in the flesh during their visit to the city. He thought my interest in her was rather unhealthy and he was rather embarrassed to walk around with a little girl wearing an “I ? Di” pin on her shirt.  

I saw Diana twice during that visit. First, on June 20, 1983 at Canada’s Parliament Hill, our version of London’s Westminster. Sadly, we were on the wrong side of the road and I got only a glimpse of her as she got out of her car. Of course, a couple of hours earlier I had moved from another place higher up the Hill where she ended up shaking hands.  

The second time I saw her was the next day at the opening of a police station. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the crowds were ravenous. I know, a strange word to use, but the crowd’s hunger for the princess was palpable, even to a young girl of 10. Significantly, it was June 21, 1983, which as all of you Diana followers will figure out, was Prince William’s first birthday. Here she was, a girl not even 21, apart from her baby on his first birthday.  

When she finally arrived to open the station, we all went wild. I think I went hoarse calling her name over and over again. My poor dad had me on his shoulders so that I could see her and take pictures. I think I got only one that was in focus. The things I remember about my first close-up look at her were her clear skin, heavy black mascara and quiet voice. She said “Good Morning” over and over again to those she shook hands with, but nothing more.  

Then I thought I saw tears. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was the sun’s reflection in her eyes. I mean, it was pretty hard to believe that this beautiful and adored princess would have anything to cry about. A few minutes later, her teariness persisted and I was sure she was crying. In fact, I started calling out “Don’t cry Di.” My dad thought I was absolutely nuts and he tried to “shoosh” me. But I didn’t stop. I felt so badly for her and I wanted her to know that someone in the faceless crowd noticed her unhappiness. 

In the following days and weeks, I began to think my dad was right because all of the pictures I saw of her in the press showed her smiling delightedly. There was absolutely no evidence that she was unhappy in any way. I scoured news stories and magazine articles looking for some reference to her tears but I came up with nothing. Finally, I resigned myself to the fact that I must have been delusional. I mean, a crying princess is a pretty big story for the media to miss. 

Then, just this week, over 20 years after my encounter with Diana, I picked up Andrew Morton’s new book about the princess. Of course, I immediately flipped to the pictures and saw one taken of her on her first official visit to Australia in 1983, just a few months before her visit to Ottawa. It showed the princess sitting next to the prince in a car just outside the Sydney Opera House. The size of the crowd was astounding. I’d seen this set of pictures before but never this one in particular. This one showed her crying. I was stunned. I felt like calling my dad immediately. My 10-year-old instincts had been right. How sad.

- Stephanie