I've been deeply affected by the death of Natasha Richardson. Any death is cause for reflection but to see this lovely young woman who had every physical advantage of beauty, was descended from a pretigious acting family, who managed to have a successful marriage with a moviestar husband and mother two boys, seems even sadder. She seemed to have beat the odds and been personally happy as well as professionally fulfulled.
Film stars tend to live large. We see them in an artificial blaze of beauty and priviledge. We sometimes forget, because of all the hype and glitz, that the death of a similar person, who is not famous, would be just as tragic, but that is not what usually attracts media attention.
Like Princess Diana before her, this lovely, leggy blonde will never live through her ripest middle years, will not see her two boys grow up, fall in love and find their path in the world. This only adds to the loss. Her husband and family will have to try to make sense of her passing and that struggle will be ongoing.
Whether I am feeling empathy or survivor's guilt, I made a mental note of the greater number of years I have been granted. Why ask why? The loss of Ms. Richardson caused me to sit this morning in the wee hours and just glance around my dining room while drinking my coffee. On the walls of this old house are momentos given family and friends: a Celtic cross by a college friend whom I have lost touch with, a silver shamrock from a cousin of my husband, a crucifix that was his mother's, a photo of our beloved deceased dog. All of these things reminded me that it is the everyday events of life, the human interaction of loving and sharing, that make it all worth living. Three generations of both families hang on these walls. None of us is glamorous, none of us had undue advantages in life. Still we all went on living.
As I think of Natasha Richardson, I am reminded that for whatever reason, I am still here taking up my little space on the planet and she, with her wit and beauty, is no doubt taking her place among the stars. She will be missed.
