I will not dwell on the details of the accident and its causes, and I will suffice with the Quranic verse: "For every term is a decree," and the saying: The causes are many, but death is one. But what truly struck me was what came after the tragedy; that scene which transcended the news to its human meaning, when the state was present in the houses of mourning, not as institutions performing an official duty, but with the responsibility and loyalty they carry.
In such situations, the concern of His Majesty King Abdullah II is not merely a follow-up to a national event, but an extension of an approach that confirms that the citizen is never absent from the leadership's conscience, and that national tragedies do not turn into numbers in news bulletins. The King, as the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces, realizes that behind every name of a departed young man is a family, a home, and dreams that were suddenly cut short.
Hence, the visit of the Chief of the Royal Court, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the directors of security agencies to the houses of mourning gains its true meaning. In the home of a father who lost his son, and a mother whose child's voice has faded, a handshake is no longer a procedure, and a word of condolence is not a courtesy; presence itself becomes a message that whoever performed their duty did not turn into a name in a record after their passing, but remained present in the memory of their nation.
Perhaps the call from His Royal Highness Crown Prince Al Hussein bin Abdullah II to the families of the deceased summarizes this meaning. The call might seem like ordinary news in a bulletin, but in a house inhabited by loss, it is not. There, where words fail to mend what is broken, it is sometimes enough for a voice from a position of responsibility to reach a grieving family to say that their pain has been felt, and that their children have not been absent from the nation's conscience.
This is what Jordanians captured in these situations; the state that asks its children to perform their duty also knows how to stand by them when the price of duty is high. Here, one of the images of a strong state is manifested: a state revered for its institutions and laws, but one that does not lose its humanity while exercising its responsibility. Prestige does not mean distance from the people, and strength is not complete unless the citizen feels that their state is close to them in their most difficult moments.
We forget many statements and speeches, and many phrases may pass us by and then fade in the hustle of days, but we do not forget those who knocked on our door in the hour of grief, and we do not forget those who stood by us when words were unable to carry what was in the heart. Sincere presence remains in the memory more than words, and perhaps the value of these situations is that they make consolation an action, not just a statement, and make the state closer to the people when they need it most.
And when the loss is the size of the nation, presence becomes more eloquent than words, consolation becomes a stance rather than just a phrase, and what remains in the memory of the bereaved is more than just the moment of mourning: that their children who went out to perform their duty were not alone, and that the nation was present by their side in the hour of departure.
May God have mercy on the martyrs of national service, grant them a place in His vast gardens, inspire their families and loved ones with patience and solace, heal the injured, and protect Jordan and its people.
