Once again, remembering Princess Diana today.
The year was 1997, the year I was to marry. My soon-to-be husband had taken a job in New England, and on the weekends I would travel by Amtrak from Baltimore to Stamford, Connecticut, where my fiancé (now husband) would pick me up at the station.
After eating dinner, we stopped at a convenience store to pick up some items for the morning. In the parking lot, the car radio gave us the news. “Princess Diana has been injured in a car crash.” At that time, we didn’t know the severity of the situation, but we went back to my husband’s place and put the television on. I felt ill, as if the accident had happened to someone I knew personally.
We didn’t turn off the television all night.
In the morning, after tossing and turning, we learned she had died.
The people of Britain were distraught. Their princess had…
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