Dear Hans.

In a week it’s been 4 months since you died and almost two months since I last wrote you a letter. Is that a long time or a short time? Time. That abstract concept has gained a whole new meaning in my life. There are practically only 3 blocks on my timeline that I can currently relate to: The time before you died. The time after you died. And today … what happens right here and now. Within each of these, everything melts together, especially what happened after you died but before today. Was it yesterday, last week or last month? Not only do I not know … I really don’t care. In fact, almost all of my life awake is about you in one way or another. If I do not talk about you or think of you, I do something to actively avoid thinking about you. Not because I don’t want to remember you, but as a self-defence, a free haven, as it makes me so incredible sad every time the reality of your death hits me.

Last time I wrote you, I had a whole lot of things going on. With others I worked to spread the message of how to recognize a meningococcal infection early enough to be able to do something about it and we have been working at different levels to change the culture of our health system so that we can learn from mistakes made; Among other things, from the mistakes made when you died – mistakes that really never gave you even the slimmest chance to survive. With the help of Danish National TV, we have launched a ship and we know we have already made a difference; probably already saved a life. It gave us a meaning in life – a real reason to get up in the morning. We could, spiritually stand shoulder to shoulder with you, together fight for future meningococcal infected, so they get a much better chance than you, Mathias and Christopher ever got.

Now, with meetings, documentaries radio and TV-appearances over with, we wake up in the morning with one less reason to get up. A little less meaning in life. In that, I know, we are far from unique. In our grief-group we meet too many parents who struggle to find meaning since the most important thing in their lives died. As a moth to the flame, I still go back to the group – though it always hurts me with its huge amount of the most terrible concentrated sadness. On the question of why I do that, the only answer I can come up with, is that it’s because no one else really understands. Communicating with other people whose frame of reference is the same as my own means a lot when trying to find answers to current questions of life – not least the very big one: What’s the meaning?

For the last few weeks, I’ve been so significantly worse than before, that I feared I was heading for a “real” depression. There is a lot of overlap between the way I have felt for the last 4 months and the classic indications of depression, but my state of mind is changing. Last time I wrote you, I was not feeling well. The intensity of the shock was decreasing, the pain was constant and the intensity of the loss was increasing. The intensity of all these emotions did however very from day to day – I could have relatively “good” days once in a while. Compared to how I feel now, it’s as those feelings then were almost superficial. At the moment I feel locked in a deep dark hole. My psychologist thinks, for various reasons, that I am not suffering from a depression as such. In the present, of course, it doesn’t really matter; I feel like I do, no matter what I or a psychologist call it, but I can easily see that if in the middle of everything I was going to have to treat a real depression, it would not make life less complicated.

Recognition is not binary. Recognition exists on many levels. Had anyone, on the evening of January 1st, 2017, asked us if you were dead or alive, we would answer that you were dead. The lowest level of recognition is the factual. We were also then in the deepest shock, so on all other levels there was no realization. As the days went by and as they became weeks, I realized on several levels that you did not exist in the present. You were dead – I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t watch you play football, I could not embrace you … You. Were. Not. There. It is an indescribably hard and painful realization, but for my part, it was a piece of cake to take in, compared to the next, to what I am experiencing now: The recognition that you will not be there in the future. It’s as if you continue to die, again and again. First, you die in reality. Then you die in the recognition of the present. Next, you die in the future – and that happens every damn day I wake up to face it.

As you may know(!), I have been contacted by a clairvoyant who tells me he has been in contact with you. You and I were both equally sceptical about that kind of thing before you died. Before I talked to him, I had the perfect control question. No matter how sceptical I am; If you answered that question … I would know you, or some element of you, really were somewhere in some form. Unfortunately, “it” does not work that way. I have nevertheless opened my mind and thought: OK, it could be right. Perhaps the energy of life is permanent and independent of the body. Then came the considerations: What would I get out of communicating with you? If you exist on another level, a level, I as mortal, simply do not understand, how can I then understand the communication that necessarily has a frame of reference in that plane? What if you tell me that the existence of that plane is so much better than the existence on the earth … why then wait for death? Why not just end this life and join you on your plane? Having considered this and many other questions I have, all in all, decided not to contact you through a medium. “What if Hans really has something important he wants to tell you” says a good friend. I can only say – you are/were the most resourceful person I know. If you have a message you think is important, then you’ll find a way to get it communicated to me. Possibly by contacting the same medium and ask him to pass on the message. Oh, and while you are at it, if at the same time, you could indicate the answer to that secret only you and I know, that would be really cool.

So what happens next? My love for you is as painful as it is strong. I will continue to try to use it constructively in my life while learning to live that life without you. I have yet to even get close to succeed. It seems to be an infinitely difficult task right now. At the same time, I will not forget my love for your brothers and your mother. For my sister. For friends. Unfortunately, it is also painful to see not only their grief over your death but also the grief of our inability, in the shadow of your death, to show and celebrate our love for each other.

Dear Hans. Trusted friend. My dearest little treasure. Hopefully, it will get better and easier over time. Time. That abstract concept has gained a whole new meaning in my life. Time hardly heals all, and in any case it works unbearably slowly.

Dear Hans.

This is the first time I ever write a “real” letter to you. We have never in your 17 years been apart long enough that I thought it was appropriate, and when we have been together, we’ve always talked about all things in life.
Several things have happened since you died New Year’s Day. Among other things, I have two new friends connected as we are by an understanding of each other’s suffering. I have for the first time in my life felt the need to regularly talk to a psychologist. When we meet, we talk about me or you, and often about both of us. She found out early that I am very action-, solution- and result-oriented. That will not surprise you. Last time I spoke with her she expressed some concern for me. You see, I’m right now involved in a lot of actions which I hope will result in solutions and results. But she is concerned that I use it as a distraction and procrastination in order not to be forced to confront and work with my inner feelings. I think this could very well be true, and I promise you that the rest of this letter is only going to be about my feelings – the actions are for another time.
I feel really really poorly. I am in my life’s biggest crisis. It is over two months since you died, and I feel I am teetering on the edge of a precipice. People look at me from solid ground, watch me walk safely along the edge and comment on my strength and energy. It is an utter illusion. A small step to the wrong side and I crash. The days after you died, I was in an easily recognizable shock. As one of my new friends remarked, shock is meant as the body’s defense mechanism. I had a part of myself amputated, a big part of my soul, and I stood back with a huge hole inside, lacking the ability to comprehend what had happened. I didn’t eat, I didn’t sleep.
So it felt like the initial shock ceased, and instead the feeling of oppressive sadness took over . I was and am a zombie. I interact with the material world, but mentally I am not there, not even in another world, I just AM not. I dare not think about the future. All thoughts of the future will always come to focus on the fact, that you are not a part of it. That, I just can not handle. I hope that with the help of friends and professionals, one day I will learn to do that. But today it’s just way too overwhelming.
The shock, the pain and the grief is still so real, so powerful. I’ve had exactly one full day since New Year’s Day, where I have not cried. It is not a goal or target; just an observation. It has become worse. In addition to the the grief and the pain, the loss is starting to affect me. I have a physical need to put my arm around you. To go to one of your football games and watch you play. To hear you say “hi!” when you come through the door. You’ve always loved Christmas and birthdays. When you were very young, I loved to watch your expectant face when you opened your gifts. Last Christmas, less than 3 months ago, you gave – as always – thoughtful, lovely and loving gifts. When Mom and I opened the gift from you, you had that same childish expectant face; but this time in joyful anticipation of how happy we would be, of your gift to us. This sensitive, thoughtful and loving Hans, I miss. So much. Infinitely. Indescribably and unbearably. I am advised to try and fill the hole in my soul with all the wonderful memories of our life together, and I must pad it out with my infinite and eternal love for you. I will try to use my love for you as a force to get me ahead in life. But right now, sweetheart … right now I miss you so much that I find it difficult to find a meaning in life. My new friends are talking with, or at least to their dead boys. I wish I could talk to you. But my need is not to say anything to you, my need is to hear you answer. To see and feel the love from you. It is indeed your love I miss.
Many years ago when we went to Parken together, we took the train from Farum to Ryparken. We had some great conversations on our walks to and from the stations. The other day I was at the FC Copenhagen – Brøndby game. Like your very first match at parken back in 2005. After the game, I took the train home and for the first time in ages, I sat alone … and I felt your presence stronger than ever since that damn New Year’s Day. And it’s better than nothing. It’s better than not to feel your presence. But it’s not nearly enough.
I am a completely destroyed human being, my heart is broken and my life with a future without you is undesirable to say the least. Education, inhibitions and a sense of responsibility towards your mother and your brothers prevents me from thinking seriously of joining you. I also know that you would always wish for my continued long and good life. The same desire for you has indeed been my top priority for the past 17 years, but such wishes – our wishes – are ultimately only dreams, they are in fact dangerous illusions about what we think we can control.
All I can do now is try to build a new “me”. Try to repair my heart utilising my love for you. I’ll try that, at the same time I every day move one day further down the road, forming my future. A future I will not accept, because it does not include you.

I love you. So much. I can not live without you. But that’s exactly what I’m forced to do, and therein lies my curse.
You rest in peace, but believe me, in my heart you are fighting side by side with me, for my life and my future.