A cloud shaped like the Queen

Today the Queen has passed, and I happen to be on English soil. Despite not being British, I felt a knot form in my stomach as I heard the news from my mother-in-law's mouth. She rushed down the stairs from her bedroom, where we had just been wondering what would happen if the Queen passed, whether the throne would go through Charles, or, since he is already in his 70s, fall directly to William. Among other stories and anecdotes, Lou told me the Queen had decided to hold on to her office for as long as possible, among other reasons, because she wanted to shelter her family from the burden of the crown. We mentioned Diana in passing, Meghan, Andrew, and all the contemporary scandals and agreed on the stoicism and class with which her Majesty had endured them all. My like or dislike of monarchies aside, Elizabeth II was a remarkable figure, and I cannot help but admire the grace of a woman whose life was publicly scrutinised and discussed as much as hers was. Not half an hour later, the news came.

It was incredibly eerie to think her passing could've happened just as we carelessly discussed it as something that was eons away – as a hypothetical. As a foreigner, I haven't lived with Elizabeth II as my sovereign, but having studied the English language and cultures from a very young age, I grew up with her image and that of her country inextricably linked as one. The apparent overlap of us having discussed her passing as it happened was met with saddened jokes about us – Lou and I – being witches, a common remark we're both used to, as we both have a very strong intuition, we are very cunning women. We are therefore usually used to freakish coincidences, but this one sent a chill down our spines.

The Queen's passing in the midst of such tormoil strikes me as what could be the proverbial last drop in the very full English cup. The economy is not fixed, the tory fantasy that was Brexit is burst, Climate Change is not reversed, the Ukrainian war is not dealt with, the energy crisis is not mitigated, the cost-of-living crisis has only just begun. And the unifying figure-head of the UK, the one thing most British people could agree was good, the country's matriarch, is gone.

Let's quickly recall Lou's and my alleged "supernatural" abilities, as I tell you the bizarre experience I had next. After some 40 minutes of watching the BBC's tribute broadcast to the Queen's passing, I suddenly realized the sun was setting, and the sunset on the day of the passing of such a remarkable figure would necessarily be something to behold. Something urged me to go outside, and so I did. I ran up the couldesack to get a better view of the rolling hills and, low and behold, the sunset was covered by a huge dark cloud. Far from being discouraged, as I had had a very strong feeling, I looked around and came across three low clouds of roughly the same size and shape, one next to the other like standing in line, or facing me hand in hand. The three coulds were coral red, the kind of colour you only properly see at sunsets, and made me think of England's three most prominent Queens: Elizabeth I, Victoria and Elizabeth II. As I absent-mindedly looked upon these three clouds, the one of the far left began to grow bigger, as the other two faded into the background, and vaguely adopted the contour of the recently departed Queen.

I quickly dismissed it as my mind making easy associations in an attempt to console me for the recent shock, but I still decided to make something of this very convenient, Elizabeth-shaped cloud.

"God bless you", I said three times, "and give me and all the other young women who are trying to make the world a better place, strength. And we will remember you"

As I said this, it felt like a spell, like a charm. My conveniently-shaped cloud began to loose its contour, and I turned and ran back home. As I reached the top corner of the couldesack where my in-laws live, I turned one last time, to pay one last tribute to my coral red, royal, female leadership icon cloud, but it was already gone.

Whether you believe this sort of little thing that often happens to me is a figment of my, yes, very vivid imagination or a deeply spiritual moment, it doesn't matter. What matters is that we make impactful moments like these count, and whether it is by looking at oddly shaped clouds or by paying our respects under the pouring rain, we listen to the lessons they have for us. The world is a difficult place at the moment and many of us have heavy hearts for many reasons, the passing of such an iconic and beloved figure only adds to our burden.

There aren't very many leads or references for us to follow, there's no "apprenticeship" that we can take in order to learn how to build the mature, honest, determined-to-make-lasting-changes leadership we are in such desperate need of. So, like Elizabeth Windsor had to do at the tender age of 25, when she left England as Princess and returned as Queen, we might just have to come to terms with our share, accept our roles in history as the clueless, unfortunate witnesses of interesting times, and ultimately wing it, as she did, to the best of our ability, trusting that we will, like her, become bolder and wiser in the process.