An excerpt from an upcoming book exploring the journey of life through loss, love, and rediscovery.
This is an excerpt from my upcoming book—a reflection on the journey of life through loss, resilience, and rediscovery.
A Moment on the Twelfth Deck
It was an amazing experience to be on a Royal Caribbean cruise, sailing across the Caribbean for four days. The ship felt like a floating city, alive with music, laughter, and endless activities. Every hour, something was happening—shows, games, swimming, dancing, and people celebrating life in their own way. It was a wonderful place to be with family.
What surprised me most was that, even surrounded by thousands of people, you could still find your own quiet moment. Your own space. Your own time.
I have always admired nature. Maybe it is instinct, maybe something deeper in my soul. Somehow, I found myself alone in a quiet corner on the twelfth deck, watching the sun slowly sink into the endless blue horizon. The ocean stretched forever, glowing with the golden light of the sunset. The wind was gentle, and for a moment, the noise of the ship faded away.
I drifted into a kind of waking dream.
It was the kind of moment where you begin talking only to yourself. Just you and your thoughts. My struggles, my victories, the easy days, and the hard ones. Memories began to appear one after another, like waves touching the shore.
My childhood.
It was not an easy one.
But it was also a time when I learned the value of the good people who surrounded me—my older siblings, my aunt, my uncle, and so many others who helped carry me through difficult days.
I was only nine years old when I lost my mother.
Even now, I can remember the day when the news came. At such a small age, it was impossible to understand what was happening. The emotions were confusing and overwhelming. We traveled to another city to see what had happened. That story deserves its own chapter someday.
Then, as if life was testing me again, my father passed away when I was only thirteen. Even today, I still feel the weight of that loss. The pain never fully disappears; it simply becomes part of who you are.
But perhaps the most painful loss came many years later.
In 2019, I lost my beloved oldest brother. That was the deepest pain of all. After our parents passed away, he carried their responsibility on his shoulders while he himself was still very young. He became more than a brother—he became a guardian, a guide, and a source of strength for the entire family. Yet life took him from us too soon, and he passed away in August of 2019. Even today, the memory of him brings both tears and gratitude.
My thoughts moved between the past, the present, and the future. Yet even through the struggles, there were always moments of laughter and joy.
Life continued.
The struggles and hard work eventually began to pay off. I began my career as an engineer and program coordinator for an international NGO, where I had the invaluable opportunity to work closely with both local and expatriate professionals. During this time, I managed multiple projects and collaborated with various agencies and government counterparts. After completing my master’s degree, I joined the faculty at an Ethiopian university—then known as Debub University, now Hawassa University. I was deeply grateful for the opportunity to teach and contribute to the academic community there.
Soon after, I received a full scholarship to pursue my Ph.D. at the Royal Institute of Technology (KTH) in Stockholm, Sweden. That period of our lives was filled with joy and discovery. As a student, I was able to bring my wife and our two children with me. Those years in Europe were among the sweetest and most memorable moments of our lives. We traveled across Europe, visiting many beautiful places and experiencing new cultures, landscapes, and histories together as a family.
And then came America.
Like many immigrants, my journey here was filled with both hope and hardship. I became a postdoctoral scientist, working to build my career by writing research papers, publishing books, and seeking opportunities. There were successes, but also many challenges.
There were moments of uncertainty—late nights, difficult decisions, financial worries, deadlines, and responsibilities that never seemed to end. Life had its share of ups and downs.
I was still deep inside these thoughts when suddenly someone gently shook my shoulder.
“Dad…”
It was my older daughter.
She had somehow found me in that quiet corner of the ship. Her voice pulled me out of my daydream, back to the present moment, back to the beautiful sunset and the ocean stretching endlessly around us.
I smiled.
The story in my mind was not finished.
Perhaps that is the beauty of life—there are always more chapters waiting to be written.
And someday, perhaps soon, I will tell the rest of the story.