This blog is dedicated to the memory of Hooman Ghiaie celebrating his warmth, compassion, and unwavering support for working-class people around the world.
Love lives beyond life, and Hooman’s light continues to shine.
This space is not about me; it is a tribute to the values Hooman embodied—kindness, respect, and understanding. I kindly ask all visitors to honor this intention and keep this a place of remembrance, free from personal interpretations or misrepresentations.
Some may smile, even laugh, wondering why I celebrate the birthday of someone who has passed.
Of course, Hooman will never read these words. This text, this blog, they are not for him, but for us. A tribute in loving memory of him, and a quiet reminder of his soul… or perhaps of our own loved ones, whether they still walk beside us or remain with us in spirit, unseen yet ever present.
When I first arrived in Germany, surrounded by a cold atmosphere and a lack of humanity from those closest to me, it was Hooman’s soul that reminded me what humanity truly is.
His quiet kindness became my compass, guiding me to meet others with compassion.
P.S.
To those who may have seen Hooman otherwise, perhaps through moments of disagreement, may you look inward, and ask not about the purity of his soul, but your own.
So much remains unspoken about the days before, during, and after that deeply meaningful moment. Many of those are meant to rest in the quiet, where silence cradles the truth more gently than words ever could.
Deva Premal & Miten with Manose: Gayatri Mantra
I am neither esoteric nor a follower of any particular belief system, yet in this deeply meaningful moment, no song feels more fitting than this one by Deva Premal - gentler and more uplifting than any song touching the depths of the soul.
8 p.m. - darkness has settled, and the streets lay
empty, no one in sight. I was on my way to a business trip,
walking briskly through the quiet night.
Suddenly, in the stillness, a voice
called out:
‘Excuse me, please!’
A German woman, around 78 years old,
stood before me - elegant, dressed in black, her face lined with deep wrinkles.
She glanced at me, then
lifted her gaze to the sky. In a voice both gentle and deliberate, she asked:
‘Do you know about the stars?’
It was rare to see anyone on the street at that hour, rarer still to hear a voice in the quiet. I do not usually stop in the darkness, but something about her invited trust.
I was in a hurry, rushing to catch
my train, yet out of politeness, I paused and followed her gaze. The sky
stretched vast and clear, the stars shining - too many to count.
‘Unfortunately, not.’ I admitted (I’ve
never really paid attention to stars. Even now.).
She smiled gently, her expression a
blend of worry and curiosity. Her eyes lingered on the sky as if searching for
something only she could see.
‘Tonight, they are different.
Mysterious.’
At the time, I did not grasp the weight of her words.
But looking back now, it wasn’t the stars that felt mysterious, nor the woman herself. It was the entire encounter, the quiet street, the whispered question, the stars above, and the silent unfolding that followed, leaving behind a stillness.
In hindsight, it was a whisper of a warning, too soft to hear, and I was not awake enough to the world to grasp it, until with quiet sadness, it was too late.
Now, the universe may remain as mysterious as it likes; its secrets no longer matter to me.
Hooman’s life was shaped by the absence of the lastingwarmth 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.
I am not particularly into this celebration, but this year is special, it’s the Year of the Snake,
Hooman’s Year.
Hooman deeply believed in Chinese astrology. He owned an ancient book on Chinese philosophy, written over 3,000 years ago by a special scholar. I still have that book today, and I must say, many of the character descriptions it contains seem remarkably accurate.
This photo captures a cherished memory, I took it of Hooman standing beside his Chinese zodiac sign, the Snake, at Nathan Phillips Square in Toronto. The square features bronze statues of the twelve zodiac animals, arranged in their respective order. It was a truly beautiful journey.
Hooman and I always found ways to travel on a budget, often camping instead of staying in hotels. Our first hotel experiences together were in Crete, where he absolutely loved swimming and diving.
Our Toronto trip was equally wonderful- he had traveled from Iran to Calgary and then to Toronto to meet each other, while I arrived from the U.S., having attended a conference. Wanting to make this trip truly special, I ensured that he had nothing to worry about, from his journey from Iran to our 12-day stay in a stunning hotel, a small suite with an incredible view.
And now, as we celebrate another year in the Chinese calendar, I am filled with nostalgia, remembering his belief in Chinese astrology and how every year, he would message me, whether by call, email, or WhatsApp - saying:
„Toky eshghe man, be careful! This year is (Cat, Tiger, etc.). It means this and that for you, but we have many lucks and opportunities …“
My lovely Hoomy, this is your year.
Happy New Year!
P.S. "This post has been optimized and refined over time."
Peace and harmony must first be found within yourself.
If you cannot achieve this and instead try to fill your emptiness with life’s superficial distractions or disrupt the harmony of others, you will never truly live a peaceful life.
