A Bond
Beyond Words, A Bond Unlike Any Other
Hooman’s life was shaped by the absence of the lasting warmth and love he truly needed. When he was just 10-11 years old, he was sent to a boarding school in England, a place far from home, far from love, and far from the safety a child so desperately needs. Instead, he was expected to be strong, to endure, and to survive alone in a foreign country.
Later in life, when our paths crossed, I came to understand just how deeply those early wounds had shaped him. The love he missed, he tried to find in me. Not in a way that demanded anything, but in a quiet longing, to fill a void that had been there for far too long.
Our bond was unlike any other - a profound friendship, a sanctuary of trust, an unspoken connection and understanding that needed no words.
It was fascinating to see how, despite
missing out on lasting love and warmth, his heart and soul were filled with
extraordinary kindness - especially toward the weak, the vulnerable, and
those who had nothing. He was always smiling, laughing and talking humorously
with everyone, and forming deep friendships.
Humanity lived in him. One could learn from him
what it truly means to be compassionate.
I knew Hooman well enough to understand how deeply he longed to connect with his origins, his father, his relatives on his father’s side, his homeland, Iran, and his fellow countrymen. I stood by him, not for any personal gain, but out of love, and because I believe in equality and fairness, valuing truth and authenticity over appearances - values I deeply wished had surrounded Hooman, as that is what he truly deserved and longed for himself.
However, my support for Hooman’s right - not to be used as a tool, and his journey to reconnecting with his roots led to tension within his family. Communication with certain relatives became strained, and he received a message indicating their decision to distance themselves, conveyed in harsh and hurtful words. It was their way of expressing that they had moved on, and that he no longer belonged to them.
Hooman remained calm. He knew they could not see the other side of the story, the other side of the coin, the one where love is not about control, but about acceptance.
Despite everything, Hooman was deeply grateful to reconnect with his father’s family, especially his beloved aunt, Ameh Tahm, who lived in the USA. She was a remarkable woman, loving, intelligent, educated and honest. She had known everything about Hooman since he was a child, including the reason he was sent to boarding school, a decision she had always apposed.
We spent hours upon hours talking on the phone, and
she even visited us in Germany, and later, she visited Hooman again in Iran for few days. Through her and his father’s side of the
family, Hooman found the connection he had longed for, and he felt truly fortunate.
And once again, it can be seen everywhere in life:
Narcissism may grant fleeting power to those who embrace it; it may offer temporary advantages to those who wield it, but in the end, it corrodes the very essence of our humanity, compassion, connection, and true belonging.
Hooman’s kindness, resilience, and compassion remain a lasting inspiration. His journey was not without hardship, but he faced it with grace, warmth, and unwavering humanity.
Hooman intended to support his cousins living in Iran by giving each of them US$30,000. I sincerely hope this heartfelt intention was honored on his behalf after his passing.
