August 31, 2007
I, like many, many women of my generation, woke early on the appropriate day to watch the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. It was, indeed, a fairy tale come true.
I also remember the day she died, as I'm sure many of you do.
I was walking into the grocery store–I guess it was a Saturday morning, and it was fairly early–and I happened to glimpse a newspaper headline through the window of one of those paper vendors. I think it said something like "Princess Diana in Serious Condition After Car Crash" and then below it "Her boyfriend dies, the Princess is hospitalized."
Little did I know that by that time, she'd already been declared dead herself. I hurried through my grocery shopping and when I got home, got on the Internet and found out the rest of it.
I was, of course, saddened. Even my Music Man was upset, and I remember watching television with him and seeing all the flowers around Buckingham Palace.
My parents were actually traveling through England and Ireland at that time, and they witnessed first-hand the amazing displays of grief everywhere they went.
The one thing that kept me from being completely depressed was that I harbored a little secret. One I hadn't even yet told my Music Man.
One of the reasons I went to the grocery store that day was to get a pregnancy test. I was pregnant with my second child!
Later that weekend, after sitting on the news and smiling quietly to myself about the little baby growing inside me, I told my husband over dinner.
It helped both of us lift out of our grief for a woman we'd never known.
Odd how that sort of thing happens–that attachment to public figures we've never really known, except through their carefully constructed image.
The second installment of the Gardella Vampire Chronicles takes Victoria to Venice and Rome.
My novel, 
August 31st, 2007 at 8:48 am
I was 10 when Diana and Charles married. I got up at 4am to watch all of the wedding proceedings. I remember that she fumbled his name during her vows. I remember gasping when she got out of the carriage. That glorious dress. She had a profound impact on my childhood. I had picture books full of the princess in her dresses. I had Princess Diana paper dolls. She gave hope to a little girl that even “regular” people could marry a prince.
I was a friend’s house for the weekend when I heard that she’d died. I was in the bathroom blow-drying my hair. I turned off the blow drier and heard the CNN newscaster saying something about the princess. I went into the family room and saw the news. I was glued to the TV the rest of the day. I remember George Clooney railing against the paparazzi for chasing her. I remember wondering where the heck the Queen was and why they hadn’t commented. But more than anything, I remember the quiet dignity displayed by her boys. Walking slowly behind her casket with their father, grandfather and uncle. I remember the casket in St. Paul’s with a tiny bouquet of roses and a card that simply said “Mummy.” It was heart wrenching for me.
I think she’d be so proud of her boys and the men that they’ve grown into.
August 31st, 2007 at 8:59 am
I was in London the weekend she died. I lived over in the UK for 5 years, but for 4 of those years I lived in Yorkshire. I had come down to London to visit a friend. We woke up on the Sunday morning, heard the news and proceeded to be glued to the TV for the rest of the day because we just couldn’t believe what we were hearing.
On the Monday, we went to Kensington Palace, like so many other people had already done, and saw the carpet of flowers that were there. I then had to go back to Yorkshire, but my partner at the time ended up going to London to work security for the funeral.
August 31st, 2007 at 9:11 am
It was a Labor Day weekend, ten years ago. We were on Fripp Island, South Carolina, enjoying a last summer hurrah. I went to bed knowing that Princess Diana had been in a horrible crash in Paris. I knew her companion and the driver of the car had been killed. I slept late the next morning. When I got up, I heard the awful news.
My children had been eager for me to arise. They came at me with smiles and hugs. My husband knew the news would devastate me. I burst into tears and the kids thought it was because I was so happy with their gifts and good wishes.
It was August 31. The day Diana died. My birthday.
Diana — RIP.
August 31st, 2007 at 11:24 am
I do remember it; I was home alone in my apartment, missing my boyfriend who lived in VA and had left after a 3 week visit a couple days before…I remember wishing he was still there, so that I could get some comfort from him. And I still think there was a conspiracy!
August 31st, 2007 at 12:01 pm
Colleen, Diana was one of the most genuine people you could ever hope to meet, my lasting impression of her was ‘grace’, simply that. She had about her that je ne c’est quoi. And humble, I was lucky to be in her presence on a number of occassions. Funny the things you remember, she had the softest hands next to those of my grandmother.
If anyone would like to support one of her favourite charities, please, go here: http://www.landminesurvivors.org/who_diana.php
August 31st, 2007 at 1:55 pm
I remember staying up all night to watch her wedding. I think I was 13 or 14.
I also remember her death. We (my then boyfriend, now husband) were at a softball tournament in the interior of BC. We were staying with my MIL and had come back with her after a game to find my BIL sitting staring at the tv. When we asked what was up, he could barely talk. He finally choked out, couldn’t believe we didn’t know. We sat down and stared at the tv alongside him. Our grief was immense. For a woman we never met, who had touched our world so deeply.
August 31st, 2007 at 3:59 pm
Princess Diana always held a special place in my heart. She was so tall & graceful, a role model for me during my very awkward preteen/teen years. I’m 6′1″, so it was nice to find someone tall like me.
I remember watching the news that day & hearing that she’d died. I thought it was a bad joke, but it wasn’t. *sigh*
I watched the funeral live…I know, I’m crazy, but at that moment it was like my childhood had died that day. Sad.
September 1st, 2007 at 12:10 am
I remember watching the wedding, sitting with my Grandmother who, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Grandma looked like Queen Elizabeth and Elizabeth Taylor. Perfect pale white skin, eyes that changed from blue to green depending on her clothes. She was obsessed with the Royal Family. We sat together and watched the wedding and she smelled so good. My grandmother was Irish and German and raised two mixed children in the 60’s and 70’s she was not a vulnerable woman, but Diana brought out the dreamy little girl in her. Diana was my connection to my Grandmother’s fairy tale heart and I loved watching Diana sooo much after my Grandmother died. Diana was my connection to her memory. When Diana died I was broken. My father had died not long before and losing the image that connected me to my Grandmother and watching her boys go through what I was still dealing with was such a profound emotional time in my life. It is rather odd how complete strangers can mean so much. I still smile everytime I see her picture. She was fabulous, just like my Grandmother.
September 2nd, 2007 at 12:01 am
I remember my mom made waffles and sent my brother outside to play so we could watch a fairy princees marry her prince.
I was in college and at a bond fire when I heard that she had pasted.
The little girl dreaming of white carriages and happily ever after cried for the lovely princess.
September 2nd, 2007 at 3:42 am
I remember the wedding, the day she died and everything in between. I admired Diana, although she wasn’t a saint. That’s what made her human and not an icon to me. I identified with her eating disorder, knew what it was and couldn’t image going through it in the public eye. She was strong and did good things with her “status”. Still a big loss to the world…
September 3rd, 2007 at 6:41 pm
I was watching SNL the night she died, when they cut in, and I stayed up till they announced she was dead. I remember waking the next morning and my first thought was “She’s gone.” I was never as obsessed as others, but I always admired her.