Friends and fans from around the world have been sending in condolences and expressions of sorrow following word that British actress Natasha Richardson died in New York, yesterday. She had suffered a head injury in what appeared to have been a very minor skiing accident at the Mont Tremblant ski resort in Canada.
I’m one of those people sending in the condolences. But even as I leave notes here and there, sprinkled over the Internet, I wonder why I feel such sorrow over the death of a woman I never met.
Experts say, of course, that the public often experiences a false sense of familiarity toward a celebrity. We see them, hear about them, read about them so much that we actually start to think we know them. That’s certainly true. But I was barely aware of Ms. Richardson’s existence — except in two instances, and it’s those two that form the basis of my sorrow.
When my children and I were living in Germany, I used to provide them with American movies to expand their English vocabulary. I would watch them, too, just to counter my increasing sense of homesickness. The Parent Trap and Maid in Manhattan were two of those films. Now, to some, these light comedies represented charming but minor performances by Ms. Richardson, when compared with her major work on the Broadway stage. But to a homesick American and her two children, they represented hours of cherished comfort and entertainment.
My son, especially, loved the Parent Trap. It’s a gentle, funny film. It became a part of our life in Munich. When we moved back to the States, and he caught the movie on television, it became a comforting and familiar thread that connected his old life with his new one. When I first heard of Ms. Richardson’s death, my first thought was to wonder how would my son take the news.
It’s thoughts of my son that form a further source of empathy. My just turned 13-year-old is the same age as Ms. Richardson’s sons, who are 12 and 13. I can’t help but think how horrid it would be to be taken away from them — or for them to lose their mother, so suddenly and over something so trivial as a skiing accident. (I also try not to think about the fact that my son just came back from a school skiing trip in Germany. Like Ms. Richardson, he was on the beginner’s slope. I asked him if he’d been wearing a helmet. He groaned at my overprotectiveness, said, “Oh, Mom. No, but I didn’t need it.” Hmmm…)
Ms. Richardson once said in an interview that she was very aware of being lucky,
that she woke up every morning aware of it, and frightened of her luck
being taken away. How prescient. Her death is a shock, not only because it was so unexpected, but because in the grander scheme of things it challenges our assumption – my assumption, really — that when you’re that protected, bad things don’t happen to you. Her death is a jolting reminder that even someone who seemingly has it all — beauty, talent, love, health, and wealth — can suddenly suffer a fatal reversal of fortune.
Finally, after a bit of ruminating, I decide to take the long view.
Yes, it’s infuriating to see someone so full of life and achievement die this way. Her 45 years were short, but they were very good. She had a life that few of us could ever dream of: professional recognition, a long and loving marriage, healthy children, a close-knit family. She never experienced war, want or hunger.
God blessed her many times over. And now I’m sure He’ll bless her family, and carry them through this devastating event. My heart goes out to her mother, actress Vanessa Redgrave — your children should never precede you — and my prayers are extended to her children, Daniel and Michael. Blessings to her husband, actor Liam Neeson. Find strength in your children. They need you.
May Ms. Richardson rest in loving peace, knowing that she is deeply missed even by strangers who felt their burdens lifted, if only temporarily, by the joy of watching her perform. God be with her.
