Day 3, and life moves on. I haven’t cried yet. I’m waiting for the moment to come when I break down and weep, but it hasn’t happened yet. I feel somewhat emotionally barren. I haven’t really had a strong emotional reaction yet.
I’ve seen many moving things in the past couple of days. Yesterday we went to a pub in town with some people, to have a drink and talk things over. We went to the cathedral, too, where people have been laying down flowers and lighting candles since they could get close enough to do so. It was really touching how many people wanted to remember and do something for everyone we’ve lost. But I didn’t start crying.
This photo, by Tommy Ellingsen, that’s been floating around the web, depicts the prime minister hugging the leader of AUF and is fantastically moving and beautiful, but it wasn’t enough to make me cry.
When I was watching the news on Friday, and blogging here and trying to keep up with everything, I didn’t cry either. I got upset, and tired, and when the death toll from Utøya started coming in I felt really sick, but it was like I wouldn’t let the sadness in.
Today I went to church, as we were having a short memorial service. I lit candles, and we sang hymns, and there were lots of people grieving and crying, even though they didn’t know anyone who’d been hurt in the attacks. I didn’t. I just stood there, with my candle lit, singing along and trying to listen to the message our priest was trying to get across to us, but I just felt emotionally cold. Like there was nothing there.
I’m not very religious. I was raised Eastern Orthodox, since I was about eight, and even before that I had a lot of Christian influences in my life. When I was a kid it was easy to believe, to take the church and the hymns and everything at face value. I felt proud to be a part of that community, happy to go to church every Sunday, I participated in everything I could and I loved it. Then I grew up, and I started having doubts. I know it’s perfectly natural to have doubts, but the more I think about it the more I feel like I wasn’t supposed to be religious. I still believe in God – or some sort of God, anyway – but I don’t feel at home in a church anymore. I don’t feel like I belong.
I thought that today might be different. I truly believed that today I would walk into that room and feel something. But I didn’t, really. I just felt empty.
My city and my country has changed forever. Yesterday I saw armed soldiers protecting parliament and guarding the closed off areas. This is Oslo, no one carries firearms here. It’s surreal and just really crazy. I miss my town, I want it back, but nothing is ever gonna be the same again now…
Yesterday at the pub, we started talking about how Breivik is likely to be punished. The maximum prison sentence in Norway is 21 years, but we also have something called “forvaring”, which I suppose could be translated to “custody”, which means that even when he’s completed that sentence, if he’s not deemed fit to return to society he’ll stay locked up. Theoretically, he could stay in jail indefinitely. Still, some people were saying how we should change our laws and extend the 21 years. My friend Ted said something very clever to that. He said that we shouldn’t let this pissant change the way we think. We shouldn’t let him change our laws or our compassion or the way our country works, because if we do, then he’s won.
This is in agreement with what the prime minister said Friday night. That our response to this tragedy should not be revenge, but an even more open, even more democratic society than we already have.
One of these days all this is gonna sink in, probably while I’m completing a totally mundane task like cooking or doing the dishes or hoovering the bedroom (if I ever get round to that, it’s overdue) and I’m gonna break down completely. For now I’ll just have to try to ignore this feeling in the pit of my stomach and hope that I’ll feel something soon.
Last photo by imzadi755.