Olof Palme, my childhood crush.

I think it is the voice. And the slightly aggressive passion. I have always liked passionate people with warm voices, but it is also probably because this was a person that was very relevant to the culture and time in which I grew up. Most of all though it is that his name would always come up in heated discussions around the dinner tables of my politically interested family and it was clear that there were many different opinions to be had. And it turns out that I am my fathers daughter after all.. 

In the end, whether it's good or bad, I am profoundly affected by being that curious child who preferred listening to grown ups talk rather then play games and hearing things that I might now not want my own child to hear.. Some people told me that being passionately left was a thing for the young and stupid but clearly that didn't have to be the case! I found that interesting and I still do.

So if I ever had one of those dinners where you get to invite dead people from history the first invitation would of course go to my best friend Amanda.. but the next would inevitably go to the strongest political icon in my life, Olof Palme, my first left wing crush.

And then I would make it awkward by asking if he can read us a bedtime story because omg that voice! Fan vad mysigt!

For the ones that doesn't know (=aren't Swedish. It's completely impossible not to know this if you're Swedish, he is like one of the most famous people ever!), Olof Palme was a socialist democrat politician and prime minister in the 60's to 80's who spoke frankly and openly about the injustices in the world and was assassinated on this day, 28th of February, 30 years ago.

It is amazing that even if I was only a foetus at the time of the murder my dad managed to always be 5 minutes away from a Krister Pettersson joke at all times throughout my entire childhood.

In a series of unexpected events.

It's been 2 weeks today since my soulsister died.

It's really a series of unfortunate and unexpected events that has led these last two months to being the most tumultuous ones since we moved here..

I will say this though: when a famous person dies it's like a buzzing background noise of people mourning a person the never even knew...But when your best friend dies, the person you clicked with instantly, the one who you share everything with, the person so ingrained into your life that you can not look at or touch anything without a reminder...The one who is the slowest handsewer in the world...the one who is the "cheer up voice" in your head..who borrowed your clothes and discussed feminist thoughts and poured you an extra glass of wine even though you know you should really be getting home and showed you the "right way" of lacing a corset ...the one who grounded you.

The one who would be both touched and embarrassed by how much you cried writing this.

When that person dies all you hear is silence.

Silence in the phone that doesn't ring and in the message that was never read. The emptiness that stretches out inside like a black hole sucking up words and thoughts. Silence in your head because of the things you will never tell her. 

Feeling like you want everything to stay the same because you cant bare the thought of her not being there to share the changes.

And I will also say this: I will always be thankful that I got to know her. She was as close to me as another human can be and I will miss her every day of my life. I will remember how much fun she was, how warm and extraordinary..how accepting of mine and other peoples recklessness (her flirty laugh and preference for tequila too). But I will think of you, Amanda, every time I sew. And every time I wear my Victorian clothes out in public it will be partly for you..just like we were and was always going to be.

 I will always love you. 

But things must change. I forgot for a while that this is what life is like. I only pray it's not too much..that's all I can do.