The Corner

The Burial

I was so moved by the ceremony in California last evening. Did you notice that Mrs. Thatcher was singing our national anthem? I was moved to tears by that (and God knows her eulogy in Washington today was one of the finest things I’ve ever heard). I honestly do believe I’ll be as saddened by her death as I have been by Mr. Reagan’s. When Mrs. Thatcher bowed deeply there at the very end, I thought: there is dignity perfected.

And Mrs. Reagan, so stoic and dutiful to the very end, finally breaking down before her husband was buried, putting her head onto the coffin and gasping, “I love you.” In that moment when her children put their arms around her, she didn’t know what was happening, and she looked for an instant like she was all alone in the world. Unbearably poignant, all of this.

Of course that grandee Presbyterian minister they had was a California vulgarian through and through. Did you notice how many times he uttered the personal pronoun in his graveside address? Could you BELIEVE that he had the gall to mock Mrs. Thatcher’s accent?


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