Long line of humanity put the great back in Britain – right on queue, says Christa Ackroyd

For me, I will never forget the vigil of the grandchildren. Because whether you are a monarch or like me a grandmother from Halifax, nothing beats the love of little ones. It was the one moment, unexpected, unique and historic which literally took my breath away as eight young men and women stood in silence for Granny, grief etched on their faces a tableau reminiscent of a Renaissance painting. They had shared her with us all their lives. And they shared her again in death. And it was quite simply beautiful.

But for all the ceremony of the past two weeks, in years to come when we talk about the passing of Queen Elizabeth II we will talk about The Queue.

The Queue quickly developed a life of its own because all human life was there. So long, as it snaked around barriers stretching at times for more than five miles, it could be seen from space. So important to the nation that TV channels were dedicated to it where we could keep in touch with its progress. They came from miles away to join it, some from other countries, whether the wait was six hours or 16. Or even longer.

Lifelong friendships between strangers were forged in that queue, some say even romances. Those who joined it shared stories, food and blankets and above all respect for the Queen they had come to see. But while the busy life of the capital and the country continued, as it must, above all everyone who had been a part of it shared a moment they will never forget when The Queue finally reached the doors of Westminster Hall and each and every one of them agreed they were glad they had joined it. Once inside, The Queue fell silent. Gone was the easy chatter of sore feet, aching limbs or bones chilled to the core. Instead what was remarkable and so terribly moving was the silence of a people paying their respects to a monarch who had served them well.

Of course there are a thousand jokes about how we in Britain do queuing well. But never has there been such a queue as this. This Queue made national heroes of those already national heroes, from those who had served in Her Majesty’s armed forces to those who had once donned football shirts bearing three lions on their chest. No one person was more important than the next, no generation more widely represented than another. There was no race or religion that was not welcome or equal. Those who were born here and those who were not found a common bond that was more valuable than all the glittering jewels in the crown which adorned the coffin they had come to see. This was the diversity of modern Britain for a world to see, when class, colour and creed were swept away when The Queue made neighbours of everyone no matter where you came from, no matter what you earned, no matter where you lived. And let us never forget the Queen did this. Because The Queue was for her.

All her life the Queen had sought to unite her people and the nations of the Commonwealth, sharing with us the worst of times and the best of times. In death, The Queue proved she had accomplished exactly that. We were as one. Now as we return to the push and shove of daily life let us never forget that queue nor its symbolism, just as we will never forget the woman it was formed for.

After any funeral those closest to the loss begin the painful process of grieving, often with a sense that life for everyone else has resumed while yours is forever altered. It can be a lonely place. And so I say to King Charles when the burden of state, when the almost impossible task of filling his mothers steadfast shoes, seems too difficult he should think about The Queue and the people he met there. The spontaneous rounds of applause, the shouts of God Save the King, the hands and yes, sadly, the mobile phones that so often get in the way of seeing life clearly, all outstretched as he came to thank them for their determination and their stamina in their communal act of remembrance. He, and others members of his family have already acknowledged their incredulity at the response from a nation to the death of an elderly lady who was equally ours as much as she was theirs. “My grandmother would be overwhelmed,”’ said Prince William to those in The Queue. She might well have been, but more than that, above all, she would have been be proud and at peace that, for all the hyperbole that ours is a country which no longer respects or even wants a monarchy, we have shown that we do, without hysteria, often without words but with love. And she would have shed a tear at that I am sure.

I wish I could have gone to London and joined The Queue. But I couldn’t. I wrote this column while recovering from foot surgery in a Bradford hospital as our valiant doctors and nurses struggle with a queue of an entirely different kind. But that didn’t mean that, when they could, they didn’t stop for a moment to catch a glimpse of the funeral, a final farewell to a much-loved Queen, many of them unprepared for emotion which again came to the fore with the sight of Prince George and Princess Charlotte walking behind the coffin in Westminster Abbey for “gan-gan”. But then, as I said at the beginning of this column, children have a different way of seeing things than we who are supposedly grown older and wiser. As Prince George who, God willing, will also one day wear a crown, said when told the news “At least Granny is with Great-grandpa now.” And she is.

The decision for two so young to join the ceremony was not ours to make nor ours to criticise. The choice was their parents. But just as I will talk to my grandchildren about this momentous moment in time for our nation, they too, by being part of it, will always remember a few days when members of the great British public, each one representing thousands more, came out and joined a queue that stretched for miles and will forever be etched in our hearts as a moment when we became great again. Like the King, we were “moved beyond measure”. May his mother rest in peace. And may we never forget the time we stood as one with those in a queue that could be seen from outer space.