February is he worst month of the year. Not only is it winter, dark, has the all consuming guilt tripping day "Valentine" in it, its also home to an anniversary I'm about to revile. Its been ten years now, today. And I'd like to say "I remember it as yesterday" but I don't. I've tried to forget but you're something I can't deny. Just as so many others before me I spent years blaming myself for what happened. But I know that... Actually I don't. I've got no clue of why you did it. Why you left us.
Going back in time, specifically 2 weeks and 10 years back in time. I was at a Kendo or Naginata lesson and you were there, hanging out. Watching. Wanting to participate. I said "sure, come along next time." And even though you lived in the complete opposite of town you followed me home, said that you liked me and I... I said I though that you were sweet but I did't "like you". I think I must have tried so hard to extinguish this part of the story, so hard, cause its all "milky" and almost to faint to grasp a hold of at all. However I do remember not being able to stop thinking about you and saying to myself that the next time you'd call, I'd say that I'd like you too. But you never did call me again.2 weeks later I was roleplaying with a couple of friends in your part of town, wondering where you were. We heard a noise coming from the front door but didn't bother to check it. But as I was about to leave we found a book that you'd borrowed a couple of weeks before, in the hallway. You'd pushed it through the mailbox and left if three for us to find. I remember us running out into the streets, with only socks on our feet trying to find you but it was already to late. As I went home the subway was our of order and I took the bus. But I kept on having a bad feeling, that something was wrong, so I turned around and went back. Praying to whoever would listen to me that my suspicions were all wrong.
My friends said that they'd seen the firemen and ambulance at the subway station talking to each other. "Did you get all the pieces?". I prayed so hard I could swap places with you, so hard. That if it was true, that if you'd done the unspeakable in that tunnel that I'd be able to trade places with you.
A couple of hours later we went over to your house, talked to your mother and I walked into your room. "He was just taking the trash out and having an evening walk." she said. I remember your bright 70tees yellow flower wallpaper in that tiny room. I remember your mum showing me a piece of paper on your desk, saying where and when you were meeting me 2 weeks prior. And the question on everyone's mind is why? I still don't know. You were very depressed. Had some heavy medication going on which the doctors, years later, found out made one suicidal. Maybe. Or maybe, just maybe me saying no and waiting to long to take it back had something to do with it.
You smoked Lucky Strike. They found a package of it lying next to you in the tunnel. Next to your head I imagine. You're decapitated head. Cause you didn't jump in front of the train, no. You wandered into the tunnel. Took your belongings out, placed them neatly beside the rail. And made sure that you were in the perfect position before the train came. Decapitated. For some strange reason, I always admired that about you. Your determination. You knew what you wanted to do. And you did it. Even though I never understood fully why, you made perfectly clear to everyone else that this was not just a spring of the moment thing. Sometimes I still wish I could have swapped places with you, secretly. Just as I keep you a secret for all of these years. But as the blizzard keeps on hitting the world outside of my window I decide to reveal my secret. You.
And as far as suicide goes, whether or not its a decision which one is allowed to make completely on ones own, I'll leave it - the topic - without any more comments for now.
R.I.P. Ulf Hedsten. 05/07 1981 - 20/02 2000 I'll never forget you.
And as far as suicide goes, whether or not its a decision which one is allowed to make completely on ones own, I'll leave it - the topic - without any more comments for now.
R.I.P. Ulf Hedsten. 05/07 1981 - 20/02 2000 I'll never forget you.
Song of the day: Queen - the show must go on
Picture: I painted a picture of you, shortly after you left us.
Picture: I painted a picture of you, shortly after you left us.
5 comments:
Well said, I'll always think about you Uffe... and we will never understand why...
I'm so sorry Elli. You write in a beautiful way. I think it's a good thing that you told the secret. Must be such a heavy burden to carry. But please don't blame yourself. Medications really mess up some people. It's such a horrible place we live in where the cure for everything is a pill or ten. And along with that "cure" comes more problems...
I'm so sorry for you, sweet kind wonderful Elli, and for him. When someone makes a decision like that there is never one single reason, but a multitude. It wasn't your response to his question.
thank you all for your beautiful words, they help. Sp my deepest thanks. Actually, as soon as I reviled the secret and blogged about it (even though the weekend was sorta a blur of constant missing him) got a lot better. Feels like I've finally released him.
Once again, tank you.
hej. ibland googlar jag ulf, men det är nog rätt sällan, så jag hade inte läst det här förut. han finns inte i min vardag längre. förut tänkte jag ofta på honom. särskilt när jag bodde strax utanför sthlm och var inne i stan. letade väl efter honom. tänkte på hur det kunde varit om han levt...om jag lärt känna honom bättre. jag var ju inte så gammal då. bara 14. länge sedan jag hälsade på elisabeth också. min pappa har fortfarande lite kontakt med henne. som tur är har hon ju stefan. men jaa...tiden går. jag är mycket äldre nu än han var då. kan inte fatta att han bara var 18, han kändes så stor. såg alltid upp till honom. men i vilket fall, du skriver att du inte förstår. jag gjorde inte heller det. nu gör jag. blev själv väldigt deprimerad runt 05-06 och...jaa, jag hade tur. klarade mig igenom. fick bra behandling osv. annars vet jag inte vad som hänt. eller jo, egentligen vet jag precis, men jag är glad att jag inte är som ulf var just i det här fallet. fast man är syskon är man ju ändå olika. nånting som elisabeth sa på begravningen bet sig fast i skallen på mig. att jag inte skulle gå och lägga problemen på hög inom mig...att man måste prata. ulf gjorde tydligen aldrig det. inte till andra. till mig sa han saker ibland, när vi väl sågs. några år innan han dog sa han faktiskt att han tänkte ta livet av sig. jag var kanske 12 år och fattade liksom inte...det var inte en del av min världsbild. men sen kände jag ju ungefär som du. "varför gjorde jag inget?"...men jag vet ju nu att jag inte kunde göra nånting. så på sätt och vis är jag också glad att jag varit igenom allt det här jobbiga själv. min depression. just för att jag blivit frisk och lärt mig leva. jag har rett ut många problem och lärt känna mig själv. för en del av det här handlade såklart om ulf. kan tycka att det är så...synd. nu, nu vet jag ju vad han snackade om. om han kommit nu skulle jag förstå. men...ja. han ligger så långt bak i tiden, och jag vet inte om jag riktigt lärde känna honom. nån stans tror jag fortfarande att han finns där ute, men samtidigt är han borta. vet egentligen inte hur han var, men förstår hur han tänkte. på gott och ont.