The thing about Heather Mills is: … she makes sympathy way too difficult.
On the whole, I'm dispassionately sorry for any starry eyed spouse scorned by a grieving lover. I've seen it happen with young and old alike … it's a pitiful circumstance of failed expectation. Like a broken record that just keeps on playing, the sad scenario repeats … most times, it doesn't make headlines.
There's a tone of desperation that underlies the combination of marriage and unresolved grief. While it's never mine to judge, I can't help but look with squinty eyes on unions consummated in the wake of death … a wake that, in my experience, lingers for at least a decade.
Heather may have been naïve, unaware of what she was getting into on deeper emotional levels. Maturity may have found her crying in waters over her head. She may have been overly confident in the healing power of her feminine wiles. That's about all the slack available to cut if you're inclined to give her the benefit of doubt.
It looks to me like she didn't care. She had other fish to fry: … her fame, her fortune, her glory, her her her. Despite occasional obligatory peeps about protecting their child's future, what I see in Heather's eyes, facial expressions and body language are the defiant machinations of a brat.
She comes across as an unskilled eight year old who's misinterpreting her loud, boisterous, obnoxious, smug and contrived outbursts as successful maneuvers for dominance … when, in reality, people are turning their backs and rolling their eyes because they can't abide the ridiculous.
Heather had an opportunity … she was ideally positioned to be a positive role model. Maybe better PR could still help. Maybe she'd benefit from one of those spiritual advisors politicians keep in the wings.
Alas, grace and wisdom don't seem her forte … she'll probably just rant on in hope garnering undue attention when and where she can.
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