The Duchess of Sussex faced accusations of bullying this week by members of her staff during her time as a royal at Kensington Palace. The claims were given some validation by Buckingham Palace after a representative said an investigation is being launched.
Many of Meghan‘s celebrity friends are speaking out to defend her and Abigail is the latest to give us some insight into her life.
For those that don’t know, Abigail and Meghan worked together on Suits and they remained very close friends in the years after that.
Click inside to read the full letter that Abigail Spencer wrote…
Read the full letter from Abigail Spencer below:
It was 2015 and I was in Austin at a work event, headed to dinner at a local outdoor, dusty establishment. My childhood friend and her husband had come to Austin for the weekend to see me. On the way to dinner I was texting Meg telling her where I was going and that she and her castmates should join me. I wanted her to meet my Rectify family, wanted my friends to get a taste of the local fare, wanted Meg to meet my childhood friend, and most of all I wanted everyone to meet Meg.
Meg arrived. This incredibly singular beauty danced over to the group, with a huge, easy smile, to warmly greet the table. Meg and I hadn’t seen each other in a minute. But when we did, boy oh boy. Picture butterflies trying to hug. After our greeting, she got right to business: getting to know my friends. She was so curious about each of them, relishing the time… with them. Disarming them with her charm and genuine curiosity. I was so touched.
By this point I had known and worked with Meg for years. She’s what I’d call “an on-call friend.” At the ready. She’s modeled nothing but generous professionalism on sets and an even more generous friendship in private. And on that night, she took my friends as her own.
I’ve learned so much from Meg. The power of a handwritten note. The loveliness of surprise flowers. That she has a perpetual rolodex in her brain of recommendations for the heart, soul, & body. When I’m headed to a new town, there’s a hotel or dinner reservation at the ready, as well as a connection with one of her friends to show me around so I feel less alone. She’s been there for me – and physically held me – in my darkest hours: After my dad died. After a gut wrenching break up she brought me into her home & nursed me back to health. Soup & salad waiting in the kitchen, just, if I needed it. She’s taken my son in as her own. I can’t tell you the value of having another working mother I can lean on when with the pressures of visibility & child-rearing woes become overwhelming. She’s always been a safe harbor for me, someone I can fall apart in front of… and with. And I have.
The dinner ended. I said goodbye to my elegant friend in her black t-shirt and jeans. We two-stepped off into the humid Texas dark of night.
In the cab ride back to the hotel my friends – who had never seen Suits – were giddy: “WE LOVED HER! Oh my goodness, how can we be friends with her? Can we be friends with her? I mean, Abs you’re great and all but MEGHAN!” I sat with a knowing smile. (I still get the texts: “but how is Meghan? we LOVE her.”)
This is the person I’ve known the past fourteen years.
I am extremely private about my friendship with Meg. I’m not here to tell you her story. That’s for her. So why am I writing this now? I felt drawn – in all this melee, with all the untruths swirling around – to present something real. From a real friend. About a real friend. There are some people who are so bright and exude such deep purpose that they change the molecules in the air simply through their being. She was all of this from the moment I met her fourteen years ago. And remains so to this day.
Meg walks the walk. She’s a doer. In the face of darkness, she shows up in light and in love. When they go low, she goes high. Again and again. She works tirelessly – and often quietly – for the causes she believes in. She writes her own speeches. She and Harry are an incredible team. They are dedicating their lives to lifting up and amplifying those who do not have a voice for themselves.
A few years ago, Meg and I were at a Sentabale Charity polo match H was playing in. There were no photographers. No “coverage.” We sat on a picnic blanket on the back of their open trunk chatting, catching up on life. A little girl hovered nearby, clearly in awe of my friend. (I know the feeling.) Meg went over to the girl, who couldn’t have been more than ten. Thirty seconds in, the two were conversing back and forth in Spanish. Laughing. I could tell that that little girl saw herself in Meghan. M could communicate with her in her native language, and in the deeper language of the heart. I saw that little girl’s life change before my eyes. Meghan told her she could be anything she wanted to be and do anything she wanted with her life. She hugged her and the little girl went skipping back to her family.
And Meg came home to hers.