As I walked out of the Hotel Christiana Teater in Oslo, the night attendant, Aleksandar, told me that King Harald V was special to the Norwegian people. He told me he was the first king since 1370 to be born on Norwegian soil. As I talked with him more, he gave me insights into the kind of person who had been King of Norway for 25 years. On 28 August 2026, King Harald V died and his son, Prince Haakon, was installed as their new King. I had been visiting towns along the coast of Norway for over a week and learned of his death only 4 days prior.
It was 6:00 am and I walked up towards the palace, just 3 blocks away. The streets were quiet this Monday morning, the air crisp, but not cold. The street across from the Theater that leads up to the palace slopes upward, the large yellow and white ornate structure peering down from the hill above. Flags lined the hill at half-mast and wide stone stairs met me at the foot of the palace courtyard. I could see the statue of King Karl Johan from 1875 at the center, greeting those who made it this far.
Flowers lined the slope of the stairs and the short wall going around the grass-filled hill. Small Norwegian flags sat in pots, and clear plastic-wrapped bouquets of flowers lay reverently on the ground. I slowly started up the stairs. At the top, I could see the courtyard completely filled with flowers. After only a few steps, I stopped. Like standing room only in front of a concert stage, the Norwegian people packed the courtyard with offerings, lamenting their King. Surrounding the statue as if to protect it, the ocean of fresh bouquets, letters, flags, and clear jars with candle flames stood guard. An easel with a large portrait of the King was off to one side, and a burned wood drawing was propped up against some flowers on the other side.
Beyond, another mass of the same outpouring lay down across the front entrance in a semi-circle, like a wave pushing to the beach. A lone guard stood at attention by the front door, and portable fences gave room for a vehicle to pass between it all.
I took many photos that early morning, and most had better focus, but I singled out this one to tell the story. Pulling out a letter to the King, his co-worker watched while the guards protected the palace entrance. He was not my King, but I felt the loss for the people of Norway as soon as I stood in the courtyard. Loss is universal, and once you have experienced a love lost, you understand.
