As news of King Harald V’s death broke on Friday, thousands of Norwegians left their homes, classrooms and offices to gather in collective grief outside the Royal Palace in Oslo.
Some cried, others hugged. Many laid flowers on the grounds leading to the palace’s arched entrance, where flags flew at half-staff. The gray sky after an unusually sunny week appeared to reflect the country’s mood.
“I didn’t think I would be this sad,” said Shain Thomas Jellum Gundhus, 45, an artist who wore black and was placing red roses at the palace. “He was absolutely wonderful.”
Many of the mourners outside the palace described the king as a unifying figure who had held a changing Norway together. Harald had been Norway’s king since 1991, reigning, though largely in a ceremonial role, during an economic boom and as the country grew increasingly diverse. Within his own household, he presided over a series of public scandals involving members of the royal family.
Until his death, at age 89, he remained a popular figure, even as public support for the monarchy appeared to dip with each embarrassing headline.
On Friday, mourners remembered how Harald had used his position to steer the country toward inclusivity. Several people pointed to a 2016 speech in which Harald defined what it meant to be Norwegian.
“Nordic people are girls who love girls, boys who love boys,” he said. “Norwegians believe in God, Allah, everything and nothing.”
In a tribute on social media, Kamzy Gunaratnam, a lawmaker who as a child arrived in Norway as a refugee from Sri Lanka, said, “He put into words what kind of Norway he wanted us to be.”
Harald was the first Norwegian king born in Norway since the 14th century — the country became independent in 1905 after previous unions with Denmark and Sweden — and his marriage to Sonja Haraldsen, the daughter of a clothing merchant who had no royal ancestors, entrenched the family’s Norwegian identity.
Soon after Harald became king at age 53, he opened the palace and other royal buildings to the public. This summer, the palace grounds hosted a celebration after Norway’s run to the quarterfinals of the soccer World Cup. Already frail, Harald welcomed the team.
Another mourner outside the palace, Fredrik Hognerud Traeland, 40, recalled the moment. “He was no longer able to stand, but he was determined to greet them as upright as he could,” Mr. Traeland said.
During moments of national crisis, the king brought a sense of stability, many said. When a neo-Nazi terrorist killed 77 people in a 2011 attack, Harald’s public tears during a memorial service offered a rare show of emotion, and served as a comfort to many.
Lisbeth Kristine Royneland, 68, who led a support group for grieving families after the attack, said, “When he cried, the atmosphere was so powerful.”
“He has been an incredibly sympathetic and wonderful king, and the grandfather of all Norway,” she added.
Turid Haugvik, 49, a sales assistant in central Norway, said that she had watched the wall-to-wall news coverage of the king’s death. “Whenever something happened in our little country of Norway, both painful and joyful, he showed that he was one of us,” she said in a phone interview.
In recent years, crises in the royal family threatened the future of the monarchy. Harald’s son, Haakon, succeeds him as king, and beside Haakon will be his wife, Mette-Marit, who has been at the center of some of the palace scandals.
The couple worked hard to overcome the initial raised eyebrows over Mette-Marit’s status as a divorced single mother when they married in 2001. But their standing took a blow this year after revelations about Mette-Marit’s friendship with the convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein, whom she described in emails as “my crazy friend.” The links became what historians described as perhaps the worst crisis the royal family had suffered since the dynasty was established in 1905.
In June, Mette-Marit’s eldest son, Marius Borg Hoiby, was convicted of rape, domestic violence and transporting cannabis. Soon after, she underwent a lung transplant to treat pulmonary fibrosis, a life-threatening illness.
Therese Askerud, who works as a nurse, picked flowers from a community garden to place at the memorial on Friday.
“It will be a period of transition for all of us,” Ms. Askerud, 51, said. “Not least for our new king who will be grieving the loss of his father while also dealing with the turmoil his family has been through.”
Jeffrey Gettleman contributed reporting.
