A friend passed unexpectedly this week.

His loss has affected me greatly. Apart from being sudden, it was an unfortunate reminder of the devastation that mental illness can cause.

It brought to light the behind-the-scenes reality that most people do not realize is there. I have seen and experienced it, and am sorry that my friend Shima did not feel supported enough to carry on.

I feel shame for having not spoken with him for over a year. I knew some of his struggles. He shared them during a time when the fire in his eyes had dimmed. His normally radiant face was downcast and sullen. Low in energy, at a loss for hope, a mysterious darkness enveloped him.

Behind a smiling face was pain.

In relocating to Canada, my connection with Shima had become remote. The face-to-face moments of understanding, and witnessing his anguish, were gone.

And now, so is he.

Shima was a man full of love and a zest for life. A creative cook, an energetic entrepreneur, and an experienced traveller. Originally from Brazil, he came to South Africa to study at the Sustainability Institute, where we met. A father to two beautiful children, Shima was a teacher at heart who sought connection with others. In teaching, he was always the student. With childlike wonder he embraced knowledge, but more importantly, experiences.

Fascinated by the intersection of food and culture, Shima embraced difference and shared freely. In doing so, he encountered many more similarities between people. Universal truths, regardless of biology, were shared. Differences in cultures and traditions became bridges for understanding and shared wisdom. To him, food was the great connector. A meal was a classroom. Recipes were guides to discovery. Lessons of life emerged from local ingredients. Histories and stories were told as they related to “how things used to be” and “what my grandmother taught me”.

Shima shone when he was able to find a common interest. The chance to share a matte or a cold beverage or chat by a roaring fire while sipping a delectable South African wine was where he was his happiest. These were the moments Shima loved.

And so did we, his friends.

With quiet wisdom, empathy, and thoughtful listening, Shima had the ability to tell stories and engage audiences. His warmth and beaming smile were captivating.

He had a deep connection with nature, rooted in food. He would forage for mushrooms. Show off the bounty of his garden.

Shima leaves behind two children and an ex-wife, and many friends around the world.

With tears in my eyes, I watch this video profiling Shima and his perspective on life and an individual’s purpose.

Brother, I miss you and hope you are at peace.