King Charles III was coronated yesterday. In the midst of it, this well-known Shakespearean phrase came to mind. This historical ceremony confirmed the role of the so-called “highest-born” in the realm of the British Commonwealth. A king of “all the people.” Okay. So the Crown has been a little tarnished lately. And they don’t so much as “reign” over us as provide tabloid news fodder and open kindergartens. But we loyal subjects still sing in unison:

Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the King!“

Switching out “Queen” for “King” in that anthem was something of a psychological jolt at first. The British monarchy – and more specifically Queen Elizabeth II – has been a mainstay of my life being a good Canadian “subject,” and all. The death of the Queen last year felt like the loss of a dear and beloved – albeit distant and incommunicado – aunt. It is impossible to overstate in the American context how ubiquitous her presence was in the lives of many in the British Commonwealth from the mid-20th century to her death last year. She was a source of continuity and stability globally, even if the role she played was largely ceremonial.

If there is a better example of an idea creating reality, the British Monarchy is one of the greats. After the nasty Battle of Hastings back in 1066, Great Britain and her “protectorates” has been governed by a series of familial inheritors to “do their duty” and “serve” the people for several centuries now. High and low-born is a social construct, of course. It has a lot to do with who has the most money and who has the most toys. All social constructs develop to serve a purpose. Social constructs last until they are no longer of service.

Whether the British Monarchy is any longer of value in the 21st century is a question asked with more intensity than ever before. In the midst of all the pomp and ceremony around crowning Charles King. there were and are widespread rumblings of discontent and discussion about turfing any affiliation with the Monarchy in many countries.

Richard III’s anguished cry in the Shakespeare play of the same name speaks to the limitations of power and being “high-born.” The rulers ultimately “serve” the will of the people. More than a few monarchs have lost their heads over neglecting that fact.

The wealthy elderly often learn this lesson the hard way. There is a point at which all of the money in the world will not give us what we need and want most. More time on earth. The warmth of family. The chance to make peace with the wrongs we have committed in life.

At the end of the day, even the most powerful people are just human beings. Still, it is hard to imagine that they have needs and emotions like the rest of us. But this current iteration of the British Monarchy has played the role of frail humanity and family dysfunction in the past 50 years like a badly written but enduring soap opera.

Death marks a transition in everyone’s lives. Princess Diana’s death rocked the world and Monarchy to its very core. It was a chilling denouement to a story that was already rife with subterfuge, deceit, infidelity, and inherent tragedy, in its planning and its execution.

Now just as that drama has more or less sunk into the annals of history and Charles and Camilla were settling ever deeper into comfortable domesticity, Prince Harry goes off the rails. A story not unlike the story in other “commoner’s” dysfunctional families, if on a grander and much more public scale.

Richard III called out in a moment of need for all he would have given for what he needed the most at the moment. We often use the phrase in jest these days, declaring we would “give our kingdom” for a cup of coffee. It is silly and untrue.

But it speaks to the urgency of how we feel when we need what we need. Life’s work is sorting out what those needs are for us and nurturing their sources so we do not go without. In life or at the hour of our death. Whether we are kings or queens or paupers. The work is the same.