The pain of her eldest son’s fatal accident still weighed heavily on her. Even the Sugar Festival at the end of Ramadan, which she had always looked forward to so much, was a dark time for her. They had visited her late son’s friends. These were all gestures of love. But for her, as a mother, the pain of knowing her son would never come home again was all the more painful. I sat with her, along with another friend from Syria. I hadn’t expected the level of despair we witnessed. I stayed for a long time and endured it all with her. As I left, she said to me: “Many people have made great promises and don’t come back. I’m often alone, and in a way I want to be, because I hardly dare go outside anymore. But you don’t forget me. You just come and you’re simply there! Even though we’re from different religions. Do you know what I’ve realised? Ultimately, when things get tough, the only thing that matters is whether someone is there!”
