How did Norway, historically free of both domestic mass murder and the memorial traditions that might guide the meaning and commemoration of national catastrophe, remember the atrocities committed against its children on Utøya and on their government in Oslo on July 22, 2011? Without a memorial template or any prescribed process by which to mourn and remember such unprecedented loss and destruction, Norway gave itself the time and space to study the all-too-bountiful examples of mass murder and its memory in other lands—all towards finding a way to mourn and remember on its own terms. From the outset, organizers of the July 22 memorial process understood the July 22 memorial on Utøya in its ongoing, unfolding stages—in the spontaneous candle-light vigils and demonstrations, in local vernacular shrines, in the unscripted outpourings of grief by family members, artists, and political leaders. This essay explores how memory of the July 22 attacks took shape on the island of Utøya between 2011 and 2016, with the dedication of a memorial and educational shrine sheltering the remnants of the Café Building, where so many of the labour youth campers were murdered.