The day Aleksander chose to commit suicide
Thursday, July 2, 2015 will forever be burned into our bodies and souls. July 2, 2015 was the day Aleksander took his last breaths and died by his own hand. On this day, my two daughters and I had a girls' day at the Jekta shopping center, where we enjoyed a café tour and shopping. As it approached six o'clock in the afternoon, we headed home, with an extra passenger as one of my daughters wanted a friend to visit. As we passed the Storelva district, which is a kilometer from Alexander's apartment, we were passed by the police and ambulance in full emergency response. There was little traffic at this time and we were left quite close to the blue light services. We discovered that both emergency vehicles had stopped just below Aleksander's home, and when we approached, we saw that they were actually standing in his driveway. Immediately, I experienced cramp-like pain in my abdomen and chest, I went completely blank and felt as if I had entered my own bubble in a state of pure alarm. I pleaded that this shouldn't apply to Aleksander, while every nerve in my body told me that this did indeed apply to him. I saw emergency personnel and police walking up the stairs and into the house, and no matter what was going on, I knew that what I was about to encounter could not be good. There was a free space in the driveway, I parked and mobilized all the inner energy in me. At the same time, I also had great determination; nothing could stop me from entering the house, because my resistance would be fundamental. I was absolutely determined that I was going to enter the house, and I was going to find out if Aleksander was there.
I walked up the stairs to the main door that was open and followed the entrance to the next floor, to the living room. Then I was a few seconds behind the expression staff. Although they probably must have heard me, no one stopped me on my way in. My gaze was extremely focused and I interpreted everything I saw. In the living room, three of Alexander's buddies sat close to the corner wall with their knees up, crying and sad. I also saw several of the auxiliary staff, but the focus was not on them. All I cared about was finding Alexander, and his gaze was almost frenetic around the room. When the auxiliary staff turned to me inquisitively, I met them with the question,"Where is Alexander?" I didn't get an answer and asked again. Then there was a man who replied "It's too late, Alexander is dead". My immediate reaction was that I blew it up and said"No it's not too late, do everything you can, it's not too late." The man repeated again what he had said"Yes it is too late, Alexander is dead". I cried out,"NO, NO, it's not too late, do everything you can." At the same time as I was saying this, I began to take in what the auxiliary staff repeated to me several times. They said Alexander was dead and it was too late. I continued to deny this as there was no way for me to accept the truth. Finally, I threw myself onto the living room floor, on my knees and hands, about a meter from the entrance to the living room. I screamed and screamed loudly all I had out of anger, frustration, shock and grief. I punched and kicked the floor and screamed with all my voice and power. It all came out in despairing shouting and frustration. I punched, kicked, punched and kicked the floor like I've never done in my life. I was almost scared of myself and everything that came out of anger, sorrow, frustration and despair.
At the same time, my eldest daughter sitting in the car had carefully approached the house. She heard the howls and all the noise I made from the living room, and stayed in the outer aisle and didn't enter the living room screaming full throat. She sensed suspicion when her mother screamed worse than she had ever heard. When my voice started to stick, and the sound level subsided somewhat, my daughter came in. She came up to me and we took each other around and cried together. We just cried and cried and cried. And as we cried, my thoughts began to pick me up again, and the question of where Alexander was became my focus. I didn't see Alexander anywhere. The only thing I had seen in all this was several auxiliary staff and three of his mates sitting with their heads forward bent between their knees. When my daughter and I cried together, I directed myself at one of the auxiliary personnel and asked "Where is Alexander?" Then one of the auxiliary staff pointed to the opposite corner of where the buddies were sitting on the floor. There was a couch. On that couch, a wonderful man with a blanket lay over him. It looked like this lovely man was sleeping peacefully and calmly.
The young man on the couch was my wonderful firstborn son. They had balled a large wool blanket over him, so that only his head was visible. My daughter and I went over to Alexander's. He was incredibly beautiful where he was. As they had laid Alexander, one could not see that he was dead. It looked like he was sleeping peacefully on the couch. When I touched Alexander's cheek and put my other hand over Alexander's hand, he was cold. His whole skin and body were cool. I didn't care about the temperature of his body. I just held one hand on his cheek and the other hand over his hand. I sat on the couch next to Alexander while I was just holding him and taking him into my heart and mind.
When I was in my own little world of grief and sorrow for Alexander, I constantly received questions from the helpers. They wanted to know which funeral home they were going to call. I was unable to deal with anything but my own grief and crisis, and failed to answer them. When they didn't give up and carried on with this question, I said they had to figure it out for themselves. I was unable to address questions about practical tasks at this time. I perceived that one of the auxiliary staff became on the verge of foul work with its repeated hustle and bustle. I simply couldn't relate to it. And the medical staff refused to accept that I was unable to respond. Can there be expressions of impotence and a lack of understanding for people in crisis and shock when aid staff want to force through their set agenda and questions?
When I'd been sitting on the couch with Alexander for a while, I relieved the blanket he had over him. He was wearing all his clothes under the blanket. Their everyday clothes with trousers, sweater and wool socks on their feet. Clothes I'd bought him. I noticed the deep mark he had around his neck, from the rope that had eaten himself a little inwards into his skin around his neck on his left side. I recall that I was shocked that it was possible to hang out with the help of snowboard laces and a wardrobe.
In retrospect, we inspected Alexander's computer log and found that he had Googled ways to take his own life, and he had been planning this for a while. We found a rope hanging out of his bedroom window that showed that he had worked with various strategies to end his life.
Alexander was found shortly after he had hanged himself. Only an hour had he been dead when he was found by his friend who lived in the bedroom next door. The friend did not find the spice buckets in the kitchen and therefore went into Alexander's room to look for these. He didn't immediately discover that Alexander was hanging in the closet. The friend first walked past the open wardrobe with Alexander hanging in it. Only when he returned from Alexander's writing desk at the other end of the room and was going out did he discover that Alexander hung lifeless in the closet. Then he screamed out so that another mate would come running to.
In Alexander's bed was a writing book. In this book, he had written one and a half lines before taking his own life. These lines were; This is for me and everyone's own good. The last year. This was the last thing Alexander wrote in his book.
Alexander had also written a text on another page of the writing book. It is unclear whether he wrote the words on the same day he ended his life, or a few days before.
The text he wrote at the time was written in American:
"What do you do on the last day of your life? I have no idea. No idea that all. Meant to happen. The bouze and the msag on the same day. Why do things like this happen? This is it. Let's hope it ends quickly. The last day of my life. I am pathetic. Why is it so hard".
After just over an hour, the auxiliary staff wanted to complete their job so that Alexander could be picked up and driven to the University Hospital of Tromsø. Me and my daughter then went down to the car where my little sister and friend were waiting for us. Meanwhile, my eldest daughter had been in the car informing me what had happened and that they could not get into the house. She called Sten Magne and told him what had happened.
I got in the car and drove home almost completely inaccessible to the outside world. When we got home ten minutes later, several of her youngest daughter's friends asked if she wanted to be with them. The disastrous news had already reached our hometown in the ten minutes we spent on our way home. Digital media allows events to spread very quickly. We didn't deny anything. We confirmed that was the case, but did not wish to comment further at any given time. We had more than enough with ourselves. We notified the immediate family, and Sten Magne was on his way home from work assignments.
There were cries, tremors and shockwaves that dominated the coming days. None of us slept for the first 24 hours. We were completely dissolved in sorrow and despair. Nevertheless, we chose to mobilize, so that we all went to the University Hospital and met Alexander for the last time before he was to be buried. He was in the cold room of the university hospital and was laid out on a bench in the cathedral of the hospital. I had recommended the siblings and say one last goodbye to Alexander so we could see the great boy one last time before we would never see him physically again. When Alexander lay dead on the couch the day before, he was so natural and nice that saying goodbye to him in this natural state I thought was good for all of us. All Alexander's siblings wanted to see him one last time. On the other hand, I was a little surprised at how much change that one night in the hospital had brought. He had become more blue on his face and had a slightly artificial pull on his face. Hospital staff had taped the wound around his neck so it would not be offensive to anyone. He was lying nicely embellished on the bench in the middle of the Hospital Cathedral. We parents and siblings all felt it was good to have a very final goodbye to him in silence.
"YOU ARE THE CUTEST MOM IN THE WORLD - YOU ARE SO CUTTY AS GOD" - Aleksander - February 2002
"Crying with strangers can save the world."
Brenè Brown (2014).
The causes of suicide are usually very complex and multifaceted. We often try to find ONE main cause, while the fact is that there are always several factors that influence each other.
One of the factors behind Alexander's suicide was his deep heartbreak over his ex-girlfriend. His former girlfriend had broken up with him, and he took this very hard. Aleksander told no one about the break-up with his girlfriend and carried all the pain in his heart. His ex-girlfriend has given me permission to reproduce parts of the love letter she sent to Aleksander in the fall of 2014.
Thank you so much 🙏
