Thank you for writing with such respect and compassion. A difficult decision: shall I speak to him or leave him alone at this private moment. I think the father loved to speak about his son.
I had a similar experience. My 60 year old brother died unexpectedly. The situation was very difficult for me. He had schizophrenia and these last months we were near each other like never before. But due to his illness, it was also difficult. I didn’t show enough understanding-in hindsight. My heart was very heavy and broken. Another woman came and stood at the same graveyard (a communal grave). After a while we began to speak. Turns out she mourned her brother who died the same age and was also schizophrenic. We had similar experiences and thoughts. It was so relieving for me to speak and someone would listen and understand.
Thank you, Jenny, and thanks for reading. As I said to another commenter, I’ve never understood avoiding grieving or ill people. I think in those moments we need human connectin more than ever.
Actually, I do understand the hesitation. When someone is vulnerable we don’t want to make it worse. But I think reaching out is almost always the right thing to do.
I read this story with tears in my eyes. Life is so precious and fragile. I was born the same year as the son. I am often plagued by despair but at the end of the day, I am glad to be alive. Thank you for sharing this vignette.
Well done, Michael, for not avoiding a man wrapped in grief, for listening, and for showing us the power of compassion, the fragility of human life (including your own), and a Europe in which a man can be both Syrian and Norwegian.
What a beautiful story, Michael. I applaud you for both your respectful hesitation and your final decision to give the man the opportunity to speak of his son. Lisa and I had a similar experience in a cemetery in Montreal. We were looking at headstones when a man came along and started tending a grave nearby. We nodded to him and started to move away out of respect when he called out, "Would you like to meet my mother?" We walked over and he told us all about his mother, whose grave it was. It was sad and beautiful and intimate and powerful. Thanks for sharing this.
Always take the walk and always talk to someone who is grieving!!!. No one wants to talk to us! Except of course for my daughter, who has learned more about her dad since he died, because I refuse to stop talking about him.
Of course this made me cry. Usually your stories make me laugh, but the fact that you can write such a broad range of human experience and do it so well is remarkable. You absolutely made the right choice that day. Now I admire you more than I already did! Oh and that photo, you poor thing!
This is the best kind of travel writing. Thank you!
How kind of you to turn back and let him talk to you about his son. Now his son is being talked about and his memory shared around the world.
Of course I have tears streaming down my face now for a life lost so young and for a father’s terrible , terrible grief.
We lost a coworker this week who was 28. A young, vibrant, sweet woman who loved animals and always had a smile on her face. Here one moment and gone the next.
The older I get, the more I think that the simple complexity of connecting with other living beings is all we’re really here to do. There are a lot of important discoveries and creative masterpieces generated by others, and I don’t mean to take anything away from them. But the time you spent in conversation with this man is no less important. Thanks for following your heart and for telling about it here.
Thank you, Michael, for such a thoughtful and insightful story. I’m sure your talk with Jades father has had a long-standing impact on his father. I didn’t know the best way to approach people who had lost loved ones or how best to help until I lost my sister Carolyn with whom I was very close when she was hit by a car while bicycling. I had no idea how helpful it is to have others talk with me about her life, especially her many close friends who shared thought s and experiences with me. It’s always comforting to be made aware that your loved ones were important to others also. I still miss her, but also am blessed to hear new stories from time to time. Thanks again!
First off, I’m so sorry for the loss of your sister. That’s truly terrible. And I get your previous hesitation about how to approach these sorts of situations. But I agree that most times, asking and talking is so much better than than not.
Michael, thank you for this lovely story of a distinctly human interaction amid a world of disconnection and loneliness. My son Nathaniel died by suicide 4/4/2024 and he has no grave, he was cremated and we take his remains with us to spread in beautiful places around the world (particularly National Parks, which were on his bucket list and have become ours to travel for and with him). Because he is everywhere and nowhere, there is no designated place to ask about Nathaniel. But every parent who lost a child, no matter when or where, wishes to carry them forward by speaking their name. By being the one who can be present for them and really listening to the story of that one life which mattered so much to them, you are providing a gift of value beyond any measure. This sort of kindness is how we find our way out of the mess humanity is in.
Hi Eric, I'm so very very sorry for your loss. I can't imagine that kind of pain but I love that way of honoring and being with the memories of your son. Your story only confirms my decision to to talk with Jade's father.
Such a lovely, moving story, Michael. Thank you for sharing it. Your kindness and caring were appreciated by the man who had suffered the most traumatic loss any parent could ever experience.
It sounds like it was meant to be. You had just had a traumatic experience and his son spoke to you from the grave through his father’s love. It clearly affected how you processed your experience. Deeply moving.
A touching piece, Michael. It makes such a strong case for reaching out to people when they’re grieving instead of keeping silent—at least at certain moments such as in this graveyard. Death brings on the ultimate loneliness—no more conversations, arguments, meals, walks or hugs with the one you lost. To have someone ask about that person is often a release and relief.
I never heard anyone who lost a loved one complain about people wanting to talk about what happened. Even knowing that I was still unsure, but I’m so glad I reached out.
Thank you for writing with such respect and compassion. A difficult decision: shall I speak to him or leave him alone at this private moment. I think the father loved to speak about his son.
I had a similar experience. My 60 year old brother died unexpectedly. The situation was very difficult for me. He had schizophrenia and these last months we were near each other like never before. But due to his illness, it was also difficult. I didn’t show enough understanding-in hindsight. My heart was very heavy and broken. Another woman came and stood at the same graveyard (a communal grave). After a while we began to speak. Turns out she mourned her brother who died the same age and was also schizophrenic. We had similar experiences and thoughts. It was so relieving for me to speak and someone would listen and understand.
Thank you, Jenny, and thanks for reading. As I said to another commenter, I’ve never understood avoiding grieving or ill people. I think in those moments we need human connectin more than ever.
Actually, I do understand the hesitation. When someone is vulnerable we don’t want to make it worse. But I think reaching out is almost always the right thing to do.
Yes, I think most people appreciate it.
I read this story with tears in my eyes. Life is so precious and fragile. I was born the same year as the son. I am often plagued by despair but at the end of the day, I am glad to be alive. Thank you for sharing this vignette.
Thank you, Cecilia. And I'm sorry you struggle with despair. I hope it gets better.
Thank you! I am in therapy and have a wonderful partner and community to support me. I’m doing better now compared to previous chapters of life :)
Well done, Michael, for not avoiding a man wrapped in grief, for listening, and for showing us the power of compassion, the fragility of human life (including your own), and a Europe in which a man can be both Syrian and Norwegian.
Thanks very much, Annette. And, yes, to Europe and to Norway being such a great country.
And speak English.
What a beautiful story, Michael. I applaud you for both your respectful hesitation and your final decision to give the man the opportunity to speak of his son. Lisa and I had a similar experience in a cemetery in Montreal. We were looking at headstones when a man came along and started tending a grave nearby. We nodded to him and started to move away out of respect when he called out, "Would you like to meet my mother?" We walked over and he told us all about his mother, whose grave it was. It was sad and beautiful and intimate and powerful. Thanks for sharing this.
It’s great you made that connection as well.
Always take the walk and always talk to someone who is grieving!!!. No one wants to talk to us! Except of course for my daughter, who has learned more about her dad since he died, because I refuse to stop talking about him.
Nicely written.
Thanks, Hannah. This only reaffirms my decision to talk with him.
Of course this made me cry. Usually your stories make me laugh, but the fact that you can write such a broad range of human experience and do it so well is remarkable. You absolutely made the right choice that day. Now I admire you more than I already did! Oh and that photo, you poor thing!
This is the best kind of travel writing. Thank you!
Thank you very much, Tina. I always felt confident that this was the right thing to do. But hearing it from you makes feel even better in my choice.
How kind of you to turn back and let him talk to you about his son. Now his son is being talked about and his memory shared around the world.
Of course I have tears streaming down my face now for a life lost so young and for a father’s terrible , terrible grief.
We lost a coworker this week who was 28. A young, vibrant, sweet woman who loved animals and always had a smile on her face. Here one moment and gone the next.
The thought is sobering for sure.
I’m so sorry for your loss, Stacy. And what a tragedy for her to die so young. As others have noted, nothing at all is guaranteed in this life.
The older I get, the more I think that the simple complexity of connecting with other living beings is all we’re really here to do. There are a lot of important discoveries and creative masterpieces generated by others, and I don’t mean to take anything away from them. But the time you spent in conversation with this man is no less important. Thanks for following your heart and for telling about it here.
Thank you, Elizabeth. I very much appreciate that and agree 💯 about connections.
Thank you, Michael, for such a thoughtful and insightful story. I’m sure your talk with Jades father has had a long-standing impact on his father. I didn’t know the best way to approach people who had lost loved ones or how best to help until I lost my sister Carolyn with whom I was very close when she was hit by a car while bicycling. I had no idea how helpful it is to have others talk with me about her life, especially her many close friends who shared thought s and experiences with me. It’s always comforting to be made aware that your loved ones were important to others also. I still miss her, but also am blessed to hear new stories from time to time. Thanks again!
First off, I’m so sorry for the loss of your sister. That’s truly terrible. And I get your previous hesitation about how to approach these sorts of situations. But I agree that most times, asking and talking is so much better than than not.
This kind of writing stays with you. Grief has a way of connecting strangers in the most unexpected places.
❤️❤️❤️
Michael, thank you for this lovely story of a distinctly human interaction amid a world of disconnection and loneliness. My son Nathaniel died by suicide 4/4/2024 and he has no grave, he was cremated and we take his remains with us to spread in beautiful places around the world (particularly National Parks, which were on his bucket list and have become ours to travel for and with him). Because he is everywhere and nowhere, there is no designated place to ask about Nathaniel. But every parent who lost a child, no matter when or where, wishes to carry them forward by speaking their name. By being the one who can be present for them and really listening to the story of that one life which mattered so much to them, you are providing a gift of value beyond any measure. This sort of kindness is how we find our way out of the mess humanity is in.
Hi Eric, I'm so very very sorry for your loss. I can't imagine that kind of pain but I love that way of honoring and being with the memories of your son. Your story only confirms my decision to to talk with Jade's father.
Love this very touching story. You were so kind to stay to listen even through the awkwardness. ❤️
🥰🥰🙏🏻🙏🏻
Such a thoughtful and sensitive question to ask
Such a lovely, moving story, Michael. Thank you for sharing it. Your kindness and caring were appreciated by the man who had suffered the most traumatic loss any parent could ever experience.
Thank you, Paul. And as always, thank you for reading.
It sounds like it was meant to be. You had just had a traumatic experience and his son spoke to you from the grave through his father’s love. It clearly affected how you processed your experience. Deeply moving.
Thanks, SBC, and thanks for reading.
A touching piece, Michael. It makes such a strong case for reaching out to people when they’re grieving instead of keeping silent—at least at certain moments such as in this graveyard. Death brings on the ultimate loneliness—no more conversations, arguments, meals, walks or hugs with the one you lost. To have someone ask about that person is often a release and relief.
I
I never heard anyone who lost a loved one complain about people wanting to talk about what happened. Even knowing that I was still unsure, but I’m so glad I reached out.