Today, I want to share a very personal story. Because of its personal nature, I will leave out people’s names and refer to everyone by their role or relationship to us instead.I want to tell this story because I believe we need another narrative. Another way of looking at the world around us.We live in times filled with worry, disbelief, and distrust. Sometimes, we hear so much about what is broken that we forget what is still working. We forget the people who continue to show up, and the kindness that still exists, often quietly, all around us. This is a story about humanity, love, and friendship. But it is also a story about a country and a community that I believe are not as broken as we sometimes think.
Exactly 16 days ago, my husband had a terrible accident. Without going into too many traumatic details, he fell off a roof and landed badly. Somehow, it seems he had angels watching over him. It clearly wasn't his time to go. He is making what feels like a miraculous recovery, and we have every reason to believe he will get back to normal. So I am not writing this to retell the worst day of my life. We know he is going to be okay, and for that, I am beyond grateful. I am writing this because I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget a single detail of what people have done for us over these past 16 days. And I want to share it because I think we need to hear more stories like this.
It started with a scream. Our neighbour's husband heard me scream and ran to the scene. Then he sprinted back to his house and started pounding on the windows to get his wife, who is a nurse, to come out. I was on the phone with 112 when she appeared in front of me. I can still picture it. She was like some kind of being of light. She immediately assessed the situation, took the phone from me and passed it to her husband, and somehow managed to calm me down enough for me to be there for my husband while she helped stabilise him. Her husband spoke to the emergency services and directed the ambulance to us. Within eight minutes. Can you believe that? An ambulance and a doctor's car, sent because of the nature of the trauma, arrived by my side. Suddenly, there were two doctors, three nurses, and a whole group of neighbours around us. I will come back to each of them, because every single person has a part in this story. Within 30 minutes, we were at the hospital, where a full medical team was waiting for us.
But while all of this was happening, our girls were at home, and they needed people to look after them, too. One of my daughters was home when it happened. She ran across the street to our neighbour, who came over immediately. His daughter, who is barely an adult herself, gave my teenage daughter the longest hug while keeping a little distance from the scene. My younger daughter was out walking. When her sister called to tell her what had happened, another neighbour, someone who had only recently moved into the neighbourhood, asked her to turn on her video so she could see where she was. Then she jumped straight into her car and went to pick her up. The neighbour who lives slightly below us came to help me when I could barely stand on my own feet. She gave me a bag of drinks and snacks and said, "You can do this, but it's going to be a long night. When you're done, you call me and I'll come and get you." And she did. At 1.30 am, she picked me up from the hospital and took me home. And of course, there was my mum. She arrived just as the ambulance was pulling out, and I knew that, whatever happened next, the girls would be in safe hands until we could all be together again.
I won't go into the details of those first days at the hospital. What I want to talk about is everything that was happening around us, often without us even knowing it. While we were at the hospital, the neighbourhood guys had already taken care of the building site. My husband is a carpenter, and the accident happened while he was working on a building project. They cleared away all the tools, covered the roof to protect it from the rain, cleaned up the blood, and even washed all the towels. Think about that for a moment. While we were trying to process what had happened, someone was at home washing our bloodied towels so we wouldn't have to deal with them later. The new neighbour came by with pancakes for the girls, and the neighbour guys kept checking the building site throughout the night to make sure nothing was damaged by the wind and rain.
My youngest daughter, in a panic, called the mum of her best friend. She lives in another time zone, but that didn't matter. Even though she was in shock herself, she managed to calm my daughter down and reassure her that her dad would pull through. That same mum has checked in on us several times a day, every day, for the past 16 days. The following day, one of my husband's colleagues spent four or five hours at our house securing the roof properly and cleaning up. He wanted to make sure that the girls and I wouldn't have to worry about any practical things on top of everything else. He just showed up. No questions asked. Nothing to gain. Then there are all the coaches and parents from the girls' sports teams. They made sure the girls could get to training, picked them up, dropped them off, and gave them extra space and comfort. They made sure the girls could still be in a place they love, surrounded by their friends, at a time when they needed some sense of normality.
And now, 16 days later, the baked goods and meals are still arriving.
Our new neighbour, who also happens to be a psychologist, made a point of sitting down with me and really talking to me from the very beginning. She wanted to help me process what had happened and reduce the risk of the trauma staying with me long after the immediate crisis had passed. My colleagues and customers have showered me with support, flowers and love. My husband's customers, suppliers and business partners have supported and protected him in ways I honestly didn't know were possible in business. And then there is the medical team. From the very first moment to the days that followed, people showed up, comforted us, followed up, listened and cared. My husband spent four days in hospital. Do you know what we paid? Nothing.
I keep coming back to this. The neighbours who were there within minutes. The healthcare professionals who knew exactly what to do. The people who took care of our girls, our home and our work while we were trying to get through the unimaginable. I want to go as far as saying that our neighbours and a healthcare system that was there when we needed it, quickly and competently, saved my husband's life. But they did more than that. They protected me and my children from additional trauma, from practical problems we simply couldn't have dealt with, and from the feeling that we were alone in any of this.
They held us through it. In ways big and small, they wrapped us in so much love and care that I am still struggling to take it all in.
And this is why I wanted to tell this story. Not because I think everything is perfect. Not because I don't see the problems in the world, or because I believe we should ignore the things that need to change. But because I think we sometimes become so consumed by what is going wrong that we forget to recognise what is going right. We forget that behind all the noise, there are people who will drop everything to help someone they barely know. People who will comfort a child, wash a towel, bring a meal, secure a roof, sit with someone in shock or drive across town in the middle of the night. People who don't ask what is in it for them. They simply show up.
The world isn't all bad. And right here, right now, it doesn't feel bad at all. I feel incredibly lucky. Lucky that my husband survived. Lucky for the people who were there that day. Lucky for the neighbours who have become so much more than neighbours. Lucky for the friends, colleagues, customers and healthcare professionals who have carried us through these days. But I also feel something else. A renewed belief in the community around us, in the systems that are there to protect us, and in the humanity that still exists when we need it most.
This is Sweden. This is our community. And this is a story about what happens when people, and the systems around them, work together to take care of one another. I want more stories like this to get through the noise. Stories that remind us that not everything is broken. That there is still so much good around us, and that we should not take it for granted. Because if these past few days have taught me anything, it is that we are never quite as alone as we might think. And I will forever believe in humanity, in the power of community, and in showing up for the people who need it most.
With love,
Alexandra