It truly is the most wonderful time of the year.  I’m typing by the light of our Christmas tree, admiring the way the ornaments shine.  The scents of balsam and fir from our Christmas candle waft throughout the room.  My chocolate pecan snowballs are baked, and my presents are wrapped.  And I look forward to seeing loved ones soon.

It’s at this time of year we remember those we lost.  And the world lost an icon this year with the passing of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

After she died, I spent hours glued to the TV.  I beheld the familiar sight of the royal standard draped over the unfamiliar sight of her coffin: a red dragon on a background of gold and a golden lion on a background of bright red.  At once, startling, sad, and beautiful. 

I watched as her coffin was carried from Balmoral Castle to Edinburgh, and it seemed to me even the land was in mourning.  The green Highland hills stood sentinel over the procession.  And the grey stone of Edinburgh seemed a little greyer that day.  It was as if the cobblestones knew who was passing over them, one last time. 

I saw people standing in incredibly long lines to pay their respects – long lines for Britain’s longest-reigning monarch.  I saw pomp and circumstance executed with military precision, though it wasn’t merely for the sake of pomp and circumstance. It was for the sake of honor.

It seemed as if all of England emptied itself as mourners gathered on the streets.  Every pub bare, every office empty, every tourist attraction silent and still.

It struck me how the proceedings incorporated every stratum of society.  Tradition meets military meets politics meets the people.  History unfolding as it has for centuries, as it ever will.

In the end, her crown lay at the foot of a cross.  In Westminster Hall, as the Abbey officiant lowered the gilded cross of Westminster into place at the head of her coffin to close the service of remembrance, the foot of the cross was just in line with the crown atop her coffin.  And with what was known of her life and faith, we can safely assume this was how she would’ve wanted it.  What enabled her reign to be so successful and memorable was her unwavering allegiance to the One who reigned over her. 

As I watched the Queen’s funeral proceedings, it reminded me of another time I was confronted with death.  When visiting my family in metro D.C., we sometimes stop at Arlington National Cemetery.  Climbing the green hills overlooking the city, beholding countless rows of names, and beholding the name of my father certainly left an impression.  Surrounded by a sea of stone slabs, row on row, it’s hard not to think about death.  Death and how we honor those who have died.  And the importance of remembering.

What Arlington shows us, what we saw in the Queen’s proceedings is that how we honor the dead says much about the living, about what kind of people we are.  We honor in death those we loved in life, and it’s good to have had people to love.  As the Queen herself said, grief is the price we pay for love.  We mourn the loss even as we celebrate the life, and we remember.  We remember because we matter. 

So, this Christmas, I remember my dad.  I remember him in his chair in our old den reading the newspaper.  I remember his warm hugs and sweet smile.

I remember a family Christmas photo when I was a teenager. My dad was holding our cat, who didn’t feel like being photographed that day, and he proceeded to soundly bite his hand just as we said cheese.

I remember how he meticulously checked my car’s fluids and even Windexed the windshield every time I got on the road after visiting. 

I remember how proud he was of my sister and me and our achievements growing up, how proud he was as our family later expanded.  I remember the love he had for my mom, a love deep down and ever present, expressed in his own way.

I remember him this Christmas as I gather with others who loved him.  Grief is indeed the price we pay for love, and that is a price I am willing to pay.  Because love is worth it.

Love matters.  People and memories matter. Tribute and traditions matter.  And these are things well worth remembering – at Christmas and always. 

So, may you have a very merry Christmas with those you love.  May we celebrate joyfully even as we remember those who are no longer with us.  May the Queen rest in peace and rise in glory. 

And may God save the king.