In the Crowd of Life… I Found You, Victoria
AlazemOil
In the crowd of years, faces fade—yet some remain.
In the crowd of life, we lose paths, yet sometimes find hearts we never expected to reach us.
I never imagined, when I left Palestine in 1988 after graduating from Birzeit University, that a short journey toward a dream would turn into a lifetime story of loss and waiting. I traveled to the United States, studied, loved, and married a Mexican immigrant woman, Imelda Reyes. It felt like the beginning of a new life.
But life does not follow our plans.
I received shocking news from Palestine: my brother was missing or killed. I returned to search for him, unaware that this return would close a long door behind me. The U.S. embassy did not allow me to return. Meanwhile, my daughter was born… and I was not there.
Thirty-five years… a heavy number, measured not only in time, but in longing, regret, and unanswered questions.
Years later, I found my daughter. I have not yet embraced her, but I know she is well. She has a family—and I have grandchildren, among them Victoria, fifteen years old.
A month ago, I received a message:
“Hi Grandpa, I’m Victoria… I want to get to know you.”
Yesterday, we spoke for the first time.
Her voice felt like it was restoring something lost within me.
She looked more than she spoke, as if memorizing my face.
I told her: You are very beautiful.
She smiled—her eyes shining with pure, simple joy.
She said she wanted to know who her grandfather is.
And she told me… that I am a kind person.
Imagine—your granddaughter introducing you to yourself after all these years.
It was more than a conversation.
It was a reunion of time, blood, and memory.
Victoria did not search for a stranger—
she searched for a part of herself.
And I… did not just find a granddaughter.
I found a window back to a life I almost lost.
In the crowd of this world,
we may lose each other…
but hearts meant to meet
always find their way.
Amer Al Azem
Thinker and Leader
President, Arab Translators Association
April 29, 2026
In the Crowd of Life… I Found You, Victoria
In the passage of years, faces fade—yet some endure.
In the vastness of life, we lose our way, yet sometimes find hearts we never knew were searching for us.
When I left Palestine in 1988, after graduating from Birzeit University, I believed I was stepping toward a future I could shape. I did not know I was stepping into a lifetime of absence.
In the United States, I studied, loved, and built what seemed like the beginning of a new life. I married a Mexican immigrant woman, Imelda Reyes, and for a moment, everything felt possible.
Then life shifted.
News came from Palestine like a fracture in time: my brother was missing—perhaps killed. I returned to search for him, not knowing that this decision would close a door behind me that would not reopen. The U.S. embassy denied my return.
And while I was gone, my daughter was born.
I was not there to hold her.
Not there to see her grow.
Not there to be her father.
Thirty-five years passed.
Not merely years, but a weight—measured in absence, in longing, in questions that never found answers.
Then, slowly, something changed.
After years of searching, I found my daughter. I have not yet held her, but I know she is well. She has a life, a family—and children of her own.
Among them is Victoria, fifteen years old.
A month ago, a message arrived:
“Hi Grandpa, I’m Victoria… I want to get to know you.”
Yesterday, we spoke for the first time.
Her voice did not feel new.
It felt like something lost returning to its place.
She watched me more than she spoke, as if trying to gather my face into memory.
And I—
I was trying to believe the moment was real.
I told her she was beautiful.
She smiled, her eyes lit with a kind of joy untouched by the heaviness of time.
She said she wanted to know who her grandfather is—
where he came from, what his life had been.
And then she told me something I did not expect:
That I am a kind man.
Imagine that—
to be introduced to yourself by your granddaughter after a lifetime apart.
What we shared was not simply a conversation.
It was a quiet reunion of time, blood, and memory.
Victoria was not searching for a stranger.
She was searching for a missing part of herself.
And I—
I did not just find a granddaughter.
I found a way back to a life I thought I had lost forever.
In this vast world, we may lose one another in its noise and distance…
but the hearts that are meant to meet
will always, somehow, find their way.
Amer Al Azem
Thinker and Leader
President, Arab Translators Association
April 29, 2026