I like Harry immensely.
As a young boy he endured the life changing pain of the premature death of his mum within the gaze of the world. The iconic picture of him at his mother’s funeral reduced me to tears. His enforced royal dignity for one so young was truly heart-breaking.
As a frontline soldier, achieving the rank of Captain, he embodied everything that is duty, diligence, and decorum. To be bestowed with the Apache Badge simply amplified his courage. The Invictus Games pulsed with Harry’s spirit and love of his comrades. Using the power of sport to inspire recovery, support rehabilitation and generate a wider understanding and respect for wounded, injured and sick servicemen and women.
Then he fell in love.
Protecting his wife whilst being dad to his baby son Archie his decision to step down and move to America seems a sensible and loving act to me.
To have endured the agony that he has experienced within the grasp of one of the most dysfunctional families, but still have a palpable sense of worth is extraordinary.
I do not believe that members of the same family could not have reached out, held him, and repaired the situation long before the media circus came to town. Yet the most privileged family have a dark track record. His dad. His grandmother’s late sister. To name but two. They failed him when he needed them most.
Harry, I salute you.
© Ian Kirke 2021
Title Photo by Casey Horner on Unsplash