Dame Maggie Smith dies aged 89 – Fans startled by her final public appearance
Dame Maggie Smith, Downtown Abbey and Harry Potter star, died aged 89, her family confirms.
A two time Oscar winner and a legend of the stage and screen, Smith was regarded one of the greatest actors of her time. She started her acting career on stage at the Oxford Playhouse and went on to make a name for herself and remained under the limelight for a stunning number of years.
The news of her sudden passing was shared by her two sons, Toby Stephens and Chris Larkin.
“She died quietly this morning, Friday, September 27, in the hospital. A deeply private individual, she passed away surrounded by loved ones,” their joint statement read.
“We would like to take this opportunity to thank the wonderful staff at the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital for their care and unstinting kindness during her final days,” it continued.
“We thank you for all your kind messages and support and ask that you respect our privacy at this time,” Smith’s sons concluded.
Throughout her long and rich career, Smith appeared in feature films such as Sister Act, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and more recently Thaddeus O’Sullivan’s The Miracle Club.
Back in 2009, Smith disclosed with the public that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. She opened up about receiving treatments and filming scenes as Professor Minerva McGonagall in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at the same time.
“I used to go to treatment on my own, and nearly everybody else was with somebody,” she told Tim Teeman. “I wouldn’t have liked that. Why would you want to make anybody sit in those places?”
She had also opened up about her own mortality. “I was relieved to be the age I was because by now you feel like it’s all over anyway.
“That’s why I hated seeing young people receiving treatment [at the Royal Marsden Hospital, London]. I couldn’t bear that, it didn’t seem fair. To be honest, you feel so ghastly you wouldn’t mind dying a lot of the time.”
Smith was married twice. Her second husband, screenwriter Beverley Cross, whom she considered the great love of her life, passed away in 1998, leaving her mourning his loss until her own passing.
She wasn’t known as someone who was spotted in public often, so her last public appearance left her fans startled.
It was at the Wimbledon men’s singles final that Smith was spotted in public. Dressed elegantly, in a navy blue shirtdress with a stylish dot pattern on it accessorized with a blue jacket and black leather heels, she stunned many.
The photos of her and her stunning choice of outfit, which she had completed with a pink lipstick, received plenty of comments. “So elegant!” one person commented. “You [look] so beautiful,” another added.
Following her passing, tributes came pouring in. Prime Minister Keir Starmer was among the first to share his condolences, saying Smith “was beloved by so many for her great talent, becoming a true national treasure whose work will be cherished for generations to come.”
Hugh Bonneville, fellow Downtown Abbey co-star, said: “Anyone who ever shared a scene with Maggie will attest to her sharp eye, sharp wit and formidable talent.
“She was a true legend of her generation and thankfully will live on in so many magnificent screen performances. My condolences to her boys and wider family.”
Smith’s passing represents an immense loss for the acting world. May she rest in peace.
My Boyfriend Ended Our Relationship and Gave Me an Invoice for All He ‘Spent on Me’
When Kyra discovers, by accident, that her boyfriend, Henry, has been cheating on her, she goes completely numb. Until he sends her an invoice for everything that he had ever spent on her. Fueled by her anger, Kyra fights back, exposing Henry for who he is and asking for her monetary rewards in return.
We’ve all heard of crazy boyfriend or ex-boyfriend stories—I mean, when I was in college, it was a common sleepover story.
I’ve heard of the boyfriend who wanted to taste everything his girlfriend ate—before she did. And an ex-boyfriend who demanded that his ex-girlfriend help him study for finals because it was her fault that he wasn’t able to concentrate.
But I didn’t expect my relationship to turn into one of those stories.
I had been dating Henry for two years. We had met in college at a party and after a night of drunken conversation over fries, we ended up dating.
Our relationship wasn’t perfect—in fact, over the course of it, we had broken up three times.
“Come on, Kyra,” Henry said. “We either get back together or we break up for good.”
It was the defining moment in our relationship because Henry was the one who wanted to call the shots. He wanted us to stay together, and I wanted us to call it a day.
Over the years, Henry and I had gotten into enough fights, motivating me to turn to therapy to help me cope with the stress of it.
“And yet,” my friend Brent said, “you still remain with him.”
It was just another ordinary Friday evening and Henry had come over to my place. We were going to eat pizza and watch series until we fell asleep.
A few hours into the evening, Henry had fallen asleep on the couch and I casually reached over to grab his phone to check the time.
But I was completely unprepared for everything that followed.
Just as I picked up Henry’s phone, his screen lit up with a text message from another girl.
Hey, babe! See you later or are we meeting tomorrow?
“Hey, who’s this?” I asked, nudging him awake and handing him the phone with a puzzled look.
Henry snatched the phone from my hand in a fury, his face clouding over.
“Kyra, why are you reading my messages?” he snapped, his tone defensive.
“I was just looking for the time,” I stammered. “My phone is on charge in the kitchen. I wasn’t snooping or anything.”
Henry stood up, took a swig of his now room-temperature beer, and paced around my living room.
“This is my private stuff, Kyra,” he accused. “You shouldn’t be looking at all.”
Before I could process what was happening, Henry began putting his shoes on, and then he made a final decision about our relationship.
“I think we’re done here. I can’t trust you anymore!”
And with that, he left my apartment.
Stunned, I watched him leave. We were over in the blink of an eye after two years.
I couldn’t understand if I felt relief or devastation. I would miss Henry, of course, but at the same time—I didn’t think that this was the worst thing.
Henry had been emotionally manipulating me for a long time, but I had felt a familiarity with him. And that had made it easier to stay with him.
It was the comfort of being with a familiar person, despite the heartache that came with them.
I could hear my mother’s words loud in my head.
“Kyra,” she would say, “You’re too smart to be playing a game like this. Let go of the dead weight. Henry has been nothing but dead weight since your first big fight.”
And she would be correct.
I decided to take a shower, I needed to lull my body into a sense of relaxation so that I could just let go and sleep.
And then it truly dawned on me—the reason for the breakup now was because I had caught Henry cheating on me. At first, I was too stunned. I was stunned by the fact that he had walked out on me.
But I finally managed to realize that he had actually been dating another woman. And had no idea how long it had been going on for.
The thought was too much for me to comprehend. I had so many questions running through my mind—how long had Henry been cheating on me? Who was the other person? What would have happened if I hadn’t found out?
The next few days were a complete blur—I felt a sense of relief knowing that I was untied to Henry. But at the same time, I felt hollow and a bit raw.
I found myself crying—not for Henry, but for myself. And through it all, I couldn’t understand why I was so upset.
While making a cup of tea, an email pinged on my laptop, signaling me to my desk.
It was from Henry.
Hoping for an apology, I opened it immediately—only to find a detailed bill listing every single expense that Henry claimed to have incurred on my behalf over the duration of our relationship.
Kyra, please make the payment soon. I need to move on, and you need to make things right with me. I cannot believe I wasted so much time and money on you.
I saw red—a hazy fury took over my sight. My head pounded, and my heart was ready to burst with the flood of feelings that were unleashed by Henry’s email.
“This is insane!” I screamed at the screen.
I shut off my laptop and made myself some soup. Henry and his delusional state of mind could wait. I wasn’t going to pay anything back. I was done with him.
As I cut up some garlic bread, I had an idea.
My friend, Brent, who hated Henry—was a lawyer and he loved a challenge.
“Hey, it’s me,” I said, calling him while I waited for the soup to get ready. “I’ve got a bit of a situation with Henry, and I think I need to hit back with something clever.”
Brent was intrigued. He chuckled and asked me to explain.
“Tell me everything, Kyra,” he said.
The next day, I met Brent at a coffee shop, where we planned on thinking up the next step where I could get back at Henry.
Brent ordered us coffee and pastries, while I pulled up the email from Henry.
As we laid out his claims against my emotional tolls—the late-night anxiety, the therapy costs—he burst out laughing.
“This is actually genius. Let’s draft up a counter-invoice.”
Our response was meticulously calculated, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction sending it back to him.
This inspired me to start a blog about my journey of recovery and empowerment. To my surprise, the blog resonated with many, and soon, a publisher reached out with an interest in turning my experiences into a book.
On the other hand, Henry’s pursuit for repayment dwindled, especially once he realized the potential public fallout and legal ramifications.
“I cannot believe that you did that, Kyra,” Henry said. “People are messaging me constantly now. Why would you embarrass me like that? Why would you post the invoice I sent you? You owe me!”
I sat in front of the TV and let Henry vent on speaker.
I had absolutely no intention of explaining myself. My blog did expose him—and sure, I did post the invoice. But it was my way of healing through the entire ordeal.
But as always, Henry had to make it about himself. He commented on some of the blog posts, stating that I was yet to pay him for everything.
In reply, other readers let him have it—calling him out on his selfishness.
When Brent came over for dinner, he sat down and chuckled.
“Looks like Henry got the message,” Brent said. “He has dropped all demands. It seems like he just didn’t want to risk any further exposure.”
In the end, not only did I manage to counter his pettiness with strength, but I also carved out a new path for myself.
This wasn’t just about a breakup recovery—it was a rebirth.
What would you have done?
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