Two years ago our peaceful little country was under attack. I remember the hours of confusion when we heard about the bomb in central Oslo and then the shooting at Utøya. most of us thought we were under foreign attack. That the terror had finally reached us, like in so many other places. Soon, we learned that there was no foreign menace, we were attacked from the inside. A man born and bred here wanted to hurt the current and future generation of politicians with the opposite view of himself. In silence, he had planned this for years. Planned it so well that he was able to look the young people in their eyes before shooting them, with a smirk on his face. I freeze, just writing about it.
I wish this upon nobody, in no shape or form. But, I have to say, in some weird way i was happy it was just one man, and that he was from here. I pictured the blossoming of hatred towards foreign people of it was proved that someone else had done it.
The next day thousands of people came together, to grieve, to support one another, and to show to ourselves and our kin that we do not want to let us be threatened, and we want to remain openminded and unfrightened. Many times since we have proved otherwise, but many times we have also shown that we did learn something from this experience.
Some people have written the terrorist to show their support. But, more people who have been considered extreme right wing have taken a distance to these horrible actions, either in public or by removing themselves from being active members in internet groups. Perhaps that is a little victory to be won, in the aftermath of this.
I cannot image the horror it must have been to be on that Island, without much possibility to escape, knowing that he was there to kill everyone. Blogs and books were written sbout this horror from the ones who were there.
My thoughts today go mostly to the families who lost someone, and I know that still, after two years, the bereavement is still fresh and raw. Not because I lost someone through homicide, but I lost my brother through suicide. This is now five years ago, and to this day I can not watch a movie where someone is shot in the head. It is too visual, too painful.
The shock, the disbelief, the grief is so strong for such s long time, it is difficult to function normally. I went about my daily routies-the only things that kept me going from one day to the next. And slowly, vert slowly, I started to feel like myself again. Although, something will always be lost. I believe that the families of the victims of July 22. experiences some of the same thing.
There is one big difference, though! Their grief became public, shared by millions. Mine was not. Still, I was one of the lucky ones, with family and friends that reallyl supported me. It never even struck me that suicide is something that can not be public, that can not be talked about. It is nothing to be ashamed of! It is to me a desicion that needs to be respected, even though I can wish things to be different, wish that he was alive. I have talked to many berieved after suicide, and some have experienced the taboo about this particular way of dying, and felt that they can not talk to anybody about it. What a horror! It happens so frequently, and comes with so many aspects that need to be processed, that I wish for everyone to feel supported, being the ones left behind.
I can not help everyone, but what I can do, is to be open about my experience, and to invite to discussions and understanding for all types of loss.
Please feel welcome to share!