I suspect Queen Elizabeth II’s death has struck so hard for many for two main reasons.
The first is that the Queen was a constant and rock-solid presence for almost the entire postwar era – there was a sense of certainty and strength in the values she brought to public office, in an age whose only certainty seemed to be change itself.
The second is that, in the deepest recesses of our minds, we somehow imagined she could stay with us forever – an indestructible force that always bounced back from adversities both personal and national.
The Queen, through the way she conducted her own life, inspired affection and loyalty in people from all walks of life. My mother would tell me how, as a nurse during the war, she was inspired by Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret staying in London during the Blitz; how the future monarch got her own hands dirty as an army mechanic; and how this fuelled her generation’s confidence that Australia too could prevail in the Pacific during the darkest days of the war. And this was from a rural, working-class, Catholic woman of impeccable Irish ancestry who would ordinarily be expected to care little for the British monarchy.
Australian politicians are supposed to be a tough lot. But I remember my first meeting with the Queen at Windsor Castle feeling like an anxious schoolkid. I knew she would be well-briefed. And, as expected, she didn’t disappoint. She was ready to discuss my new government’s approach on everything from climate change (where she was already ahead of the political curve) to her future as the Queen of Australia.
But as I spoke to her about my late mother, I quickly saw her human side as she was genuinely moved by my mum’s affection for a distant monarch forged during the hard years of war. Prime ministers aren’t supposed to say too much about their meetings with the monarch. I don’t intend to betray that tradition here. But there’s one anecdote I can safely share that also shows her sense of fun rather than just her Edwardian duty.
While the Queen and I were deep in conversation over lunch at Buckingham Palace about the state of the Commonwealth, our spouses were focused on another of her great passions: dogs. So when Thérèse expressed a desire to meet the Queen’s famous corgis, it wasn’t long before Her Majesty gave the signal that prompted this golden blur of dogs – at least six or seven of them – to barrel into the opulent dining room adjacent to her private apartments.
As the corgis introduced themselves to us, Thérèse remarked to the Queen that one of them looked a bit different to the others. Her Majesty put down her glass of Dubonnet and, with a knowing grin, admitted to the dog’s dubious pedigree, saying the dog’s mother had been “a hopeless trollop”. The entire table descended into raucous laughter.
Queen Elizabeth’s seven-decade reign saw monarchies crumble around the world. Indeed many expected her to be Britain’s last monarch. Instead, through consistency of character, personal courage, an old-fashioned sense of duty now lacking in much of modern political life, and the quiet, abiding strength of her faith that was thankfully free from American flamboyance and excess, Elizabeth succeeded in anchoring a nation and a Commonwealth during an extraordinary era of global change. And that is why we will miss her. She was one of a kind.
• Kevin Rudd is a former prime minister of Australia
