I look into her face, curiously more familiar, more frequent now on her departure. And particularly more prominent in profile.  
I look into her face and see the easy smile that comes with age and with the assurance of knowing herself and her place in the bigger scheme of things, particularly in the scheme of relatively earthly royalty and the ultimately heavenly King.
I look into her face and recall it in prayer at her husband's funeral, and imagine it now at rest, in darkness and in joy, in a brighter light.
I look into her face, on my pound coin, in the corner of my letter, on the street bill board, on the front of the paper, on every channel, an image etched in my mind's eye, a loud echo of a lifetime of consistency and service.  
I look and then in a prayer thank her God and my God for gifting us this servant queen, who lived well and only fell once she had done enough to help ensure others' lives were better for her being there.
And I pray for our king, that his long apprentiship in her firm serves him well and serves us well as we walk on together, into the unknown, in thanks for the service of leaders.