Follow storiesunderthemoon @ Instagram

Stories under the Moon

Stories under the Moon

We share the Moon - let's share our stories

I died in 2005 …

I died a weekend in 2005. I was out with my friends, and halfway through a go-cart race, my head suddenly dropped down on the steering wheel, and I crashed…

I died a weekend in 2005.

I was out with my friends, and halfway through a go-cart race, my head suddenly dropped down on the steering wheel, and I crashed into the tires that encircled the track. I had stopped breathing; I had no pulse and my friends immediately started resuscitation.

At the hospital, I was put on a medical ventilator and they cooled down my body temperature to 30 degrees until the following Tuesday. Then I woke up and slowly came round.

The next day, I was moved to a larger hospital in Odense, where I was in the Coronary Care Unit. From there I could see the red rooftops of the ward where they treat patients with cancer – and I really loved my own situation.

I was alive. I did not have cancer. I was just tired. But I was able to enjoy even the smallest things in a positive way.
I was treated well – the nurses and doctors were sweet and friendly. And I was alive and I would soon be able to get back home to my lovely wife and my two daughters.

But then problems arose when the doctors discovered, that my coronary arteries were completely blocked. Strange. I had been a professional football-player, and I have never been smoking. So I had a Quintuple bypass operation. Five of the coronary arteries were bypassed.

Before I could go back home I got infections and had to stay longer in hospital. Finally I could return home after a 32 days stay at different hospitals.

Since then I have been living in the present moment.

We have bought a caravan, we travel to Southern Europe, we play golf, we have fun with our daughters, and we are always trying to be positive. I am trying to get the best out of every situation. It can be difficult sometimes, but it is worth fighting for.
No one can take away my life.

And on my mobile I have this Dire Straits song as a ringtone:

‘There’s just a song in all the trouble and the strife. You do the walk, you do the walk of life … ‘

*

Hans Peter, 61   

 

No Comments on I died in 2005 …

I wish my dresses could tell me stories …

I love my dresses! I have more than 250 – most of them are from the 1950’s and 1960’s. I buy them on ebay and in thrift shops all over…

I love my dresses!

I have more than 250 – most of them are from the 1950’s and 1960’s. I buy them on ebay and in thrift shops all over the world. I prefer the dresses from America and England, because they are usually in great condition and the quality is superb.

Sometimes I am lucky to find beautiful handmade dresses and even designer dresses at a very low price.

Wearing these dresses makes me feel quite feminine and special, because they are so unique. I especially love the colours and the shapes of these vintage dresses.

I wish they could tell me stories about the women, who loved them – their hopes and dreams about the future, and also stories about the parties and concerts they were at.

Somehow these dresses have souls.

*

Henriette, 42   

 

No Comments on I wish my dresses could tell me stories …

I still have all the pictures in my head …

In the twilight of an autumn day in 1966, we were a bunch of kids who rode our bikes to get to a garden filled with pear trees. In our…

In the twilight of an autumn day in 1966, we were a bunch of kids who rode our bikes to get to a garden filled with pear trees. In our opinion, the owner had far too many pears for him to eat alone, so we stuffed our pockets with pears. When we wanted to get back home, I was the first to cross the road.

I was nine years old.

When I turned to see if my six year old little sister Karen was behind me, I saw her being hit by a car and she was killed instantly. There was no time for me to warn her.
I still have all the pictures in my head. I see the bicycle underneath the car, and the crumbled bicycle frame, that sparkled while being pushed across the asphalt. I did not see my sister, because she had been thrown into the air.

That day, my bright childhood had suddenly turned into a black night.

My parents came running towards us and some of our neighbours took care of my two brothers and me while my father and mother rode in the ambulance to the hospital. When they returned home in the evening, they woke me up and told me that Karen was dead.

For a long time after the accident, I was filled up with a blend of guilt, sadness, despair and desperation, and I am grateful that my parents decided to have another child, and I was allowed to witness the birth of my baby brother the year after Karen’s death.

It was probably the best healing of the pain at all, that I within a year experienced death in a very brutal way, but also was allowed to experience the birth of a new baby.

Life gives and life takes, and today I am 60 years old and the Danish Minister for Culture.

And my baby brother I witnessed being born, is the Minister for Foreign Affairs.

*

Mette, 60   

No Comments on I still have all the pictures in my head …

The freedom of being a fisherman

I bought my little fishing boat two years ago. It was an old dream to get it and be a part time fisherman, and I enjoy going out fishing once…

I bought my little fishing boat two years ago. It was an old dream to get it and be a part time fisherman, and I enjoy going out fishing once a week, although it does not make me a millionaire. I have paid 300,000 Danish kroner for the old boat, and last year I earned 40,000 kroner.

I sell the fish here at the port to private customers and the rest os the fish I sell to a fishmonger in my hometown.

I have named the boat ‘Maja’. That’s the name of my sister. My girlfriend and I have no children and she would not let me use her name. She comes from a large fishing family, where all the boats have alway been named after the girls’ names. She does not want to be a part of that game anymore.

The best thing about fishing alone? Freedom. And the fact whether is’s a success only depends on me.

The rest of the week I work as a handy man on an estate.

*

Jakob, 40   

 

No Comments on The freedom of being a fisherman

It is like all feelings are cut to pieces when I die …

I have never regretted being childfree by choice, but it means there is nothing or nobody following. All the things I have in my home, things I love, will never…

I have never regretted being childfree by choice, but it means there is nothing or nobody following.

All the things I have in my home, things I love, will never get a new home. When I die, they will be thrown out or dropped off at a thrift shop. Nobody will appreciate them, when I am gone.

It is like all feelings are cut to pieces when I die.

The natural transfer of my life to the next, does not exist. When I disappear, it is over. It is a strange feeling …

*

Sørine, 50   

 

 

No Comments on It is like all feelings are cut to pieces when I die …

Holy cow, you’re alive!

I’ve been through five serious operations, and it’s always a great experience to wake up eight hours later and look out of the window. I just love watching the sun. And…

I’ve been through five serious operations, and it’s always a great experience to wake up eight hours later and look out of the window.

I just love watching the sun.

And if it’s in the summertime, which is has been several times, I look at the green green trees, and I think: ‘Holy cow, I’m alive!’

It’s the most life-provoking thing I know.

*

Per, 73   

No Comments on Holy cow, you’re alive!

I’m quite sure God is there …

‘I’m quite sure God is there. Who else could have pushed the big button 13,7 billion years ago and started the universe …?’ (activate english subtitles)    

‘I’m quite sure God is there. Who else could have pushed the big button 13,7 billion years ago and started the universe …?’

(activate english subtitles)

 

 

No Comments on I’m quite sure God is there …

We must wait and see if Saint Peter wants to let me in

I am sitting next to my beloved grandmother in a hospice. I am not sure if she knows, she is going to die, but last night she stole a piece…

I am sitting next to my beloved grandmother in a hospice.

I am not sure if she knows, she is going to die, but last night she stole a piece of chocolate in the living room, and since she got back to bed she has not woken up again. The last thing she whispered to me was:

’We must wait and see if Saint Peter wants to let me in or if we get kicked out.’

My grandmother had a huge key hanging on her wall, and we often joked about it being the key to Saint Peter’s gate’…

My grandmother was born in 1920, and I got to know her when I was only two years old. I grew up with her, and it was very important for me to give her peaceful surroundings on her last journey. For the last three years I have been visiting her three times a week. I asked her if she thought of death, but she never did. ’We must all go the same way’, she always said …

Knowing someone who is dying, is a gift if you dare to look at the person who is waiting for their last breath, but only when it is an expected end of life and not a traumatic and unexpected one.

My grandmother was a part of a generation of women where being a woman meant putting others before themselves without having the choices women have today. At that time, a woman’s need for adult, sensual love was an unknown phenomenon. My grandmother stems from a generation of poverty, war and basic survival.

We are all affected, by the life we have lived. The story is our inherited story.

Have we come to love, have we shown we have loved, have we felt love?

I loved my grandmother – and I miss her every single day …

*

Diana, 53   

 

 

No Comments on We must wait and see if Saint Peter wants to let me in

The little boy and the cold war

As a young boy, I used to hang around the military people who were employed to sit in the lighthouse a few hundred meters away from here, and keep an…

As a young boy, I used to hang around the military people who were employed to sit in the lighthouse a few hundred meters away from here, and keep an eye on the Russian ships in the Baltic Sea. Two big posters of Russian warships decorated the wall, and every time the military people spotted a ship, they had to report it to the local coastal guard. They used big binoculars, and that was exciting for a boy of 15 years. It was in the early sixties during the Cuba crisis.

In 1968 I traveled to the United States where I met the love of my life. We got married and five years later we moved to Denmark. We have been together ever since. We have three sons.

I have had a lot of different jobs during my life. I started in the shipping business, but I have also been employed in the funeral industry and I have sold aids and appliances for the disabled people. My wife was a school teacher.

Now I’m 70, and I enjoy being a pensioner. We have inherited my parents’ summer cottage on this beach, we have an apartment in Copenhagen, and we have a big truck camper standing north of New York. Every year we fly to America with our dog and explore new places. Next time will be in August.

Life is good.

*

Henrik, 70 – and his dog Maggie   

 

No Comments on The little boy and the cold war

Forgiveness

I’ve never met my dad. He disappeared when I was baby, and my mother was mentally ill. I remember her as a person with a lot of love, but suddenly…

I’ve never met my dad. He disappeared when I was baby, and my mother was mentally ill. I remember her as a person with a lot of love, but suddenly she got her disease, and then she disappeared from me. She disappeared. And she became angry.

When I was young, I did not understand, that she was actually ill and that it was not her, who chose to shout and scream at me and be malicious. It was the disease.

I have spent almost all of my adult life trying to understand. It has affected my entire life. Today, I finally think that the little girl inside me has reconciled with her past and has forgiven her mother.

*

Majbritte, 53   

 

 

No Comments on Forgiveness

Type on the field below and hit Enter/Return to search