My son, Nick Elizalde, brought people together. We need to follow his example.

My son, Nick Elizalde, knew in 14 years what many adults never learn: the voice of the oppressed must not be ignored.

Nick was killed in a shooting at Roxborough High School on Sept. 27, 2022. He was murdered in front of me and died in my arms. I could not save him. God chose Nick as a martyr, which is the highest honor for a Muslim. However, in his death, Nick transcended boundaries — as he always did in life.

Nick was a kind and gentle soul. He was patient and understanding and loved exploring other cultures and religions. He was an honorary member of the Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom, a Muslim/Jewish women’s group based in Bala Cynwyd. He attended monthly meetings with me for years as a little boy and happily soaked up knowledge. This is partly where he learned to reach across the aisle and find common ground, to work with others in support of the common good, to speak out against injustice while remaining respectful, and to form alliances with other marginalized groups.

The sisterhood helped him grow in his knowledge of — and appreciation for — Jewish culture. I have no doubt that he would be gratified to know that he is remembered as a “tzaddik, or a person of great righteousness” because his death occurred on Rosh Hashanah.

Nick is the most righteous person I have ever met. He is an inspiration and an example. The lessons of his life and how we honor his memory in death can help lead us through these dark and destructive times.

Nick’s demeanor is what endeared him to people. He was keenly observant and always remained calm. In sixth grade, a fellow student told the social studies class that Israel was empty before the Jewish people arrived after World War II. Nick respectfully explained to the class that this was inaccurate. He gave a brief history and told the class why he unequivocally supported a free Palestine. My boy had such a gift for teaching others through example, and he earned deep respect from adults and children alike.

Throughout Palestine, there are trees, gardens, and even a remembrance to Nick in the Al-Aqsa Mosque, located in Jerusalem. Some of these were planted by people who didn’t even know Nick. They simply were inspired by his story. The Palestinian people have suffered so much over the years, yet they took the time to incorporate Nick’s memory into their land. This is a tremendous honor that brings me some peace in particularly dark moments.

One of our Jewish friends also had trees planted in Israel in Nick’s memory, and I take comfort in knowing that Nick’s soothing presence is alive in both areas. I hope the roots of his trees will intertwine and spread peace and equality throughout the region.

He knew that Israelis and Palestinians need to talk and listen to each other, and the way they do those things matters.

A few years ago, Nick and I bought tickets to a festival that featured films from Israel. When we — a young boy and a woman in a headscarf — arrived, we were met with many stares. It felt uncomfortable. As we sat in our seats, an Israeli woman who did not identify herself approached us. She asked us what we were doing there and the question that many members of marginalized groups have heard: “Where are you from?” “No, originally.” She told us that our presence was a security concern, even though everyone went through security upon entering. Nick calmly asserted our right to be in attendance and then ignored her. He stopped making eye contact and made it clear that he would not engage with such blatant bigotry.

After the movie, she approached us again. She did not respect the boundary that Nick and I established; it felt like she thought she had the right to question us, to try to keep us away from a public event.

I was humiliated. Disgusted. But Nick — only 12 at the time — kept his cool. He didn’t raise his voice or respond with hostility. Instead, we told our story to the Jewish members of the sisterhood, who volunteered to identify the woman and provide her with sensitivity training. We wanted her to understand her implicit bias and to grow from the experience. To build bridges rather than burn them down.

Both Islam and Judaism demand this from us. The Quran says, “We made you into nations and tribes so that you may know each other.” Islam also tells us to want for your brother what you want for yourself, similar to the “Golden Rule” from the Bible. Our Jewish friends have also taught me about T’shuvah, a practice of recognizing and repairing wrongs done to others.

Nick didn’t see the world through rose-colored glasses. After watching The Present, a short film by Farah Nabulsi, about a man named Yusef and his daughter trying to buy an anniversary gift in the West Bank, Nick began researching. He found that the Israeli government has effectively created what some human rights advocates describe as an apartheid state — a two-tiered system of laws that disgusted him. Many people assume that all Palestinians support Hamas, which pained Nick deeply. He knew the dangers of this misconception. He knew that countless lives have been and will continue to be lost when operating under such an assumption.

He also believed that dialogue and mutual respect were the only way forward, and advocated for many until his voice was stolen in Roxborough by a group of teens and one adult with guns. They had no regard for human life, including their own.

Whether it’s Philadelphia or Gaza, when we divide and demonize, violence and death will follow. When we fail to see ourselves in “the other,” we should not be surprised that a 6-year-old boy was stabbed to death outside of Chicago by a 71-year-old man, yelling, “You Muslims must die.”

Nick was a history buff and once told me that we are only doomed to repeat history if we stay silent. “Never again” is a universal directive that we all must heed. Qui tacet consentire videtur: With silence, you consent. My wise boy.

My wise boy.

As we all work through this moment of shared pain, it is crucial to educate yourself. Seek out various news outlets. It is not antisemitic to criticize the Israeli government, just as it is not anti-American to criticize our government for its crimes against humanity on the U.S.-Mexico border (which Nick marched against). Judaism — a religion — and the Israeli government — a political system — are not synonymous. Nor should all Palestinians be equated with Hamas.

Collective punishment is not the answer. Palestinian mothers feel the same grief as Israeli mothers when they hold their dead children. I know that pain. I know it doesn’t go away after the bodies are buried.

This issue did not start on Oct. 7. Look deeper, as Nick did. Speak truth to power, as Nick did.

Nick’s earthly life has ended, but his legacy continues. Be a part of Nick’s legacy by making yourself part of the solution. We failed Nick by allowing gun violence to dominate our city and by the national prioritization of the Second Amendment over the right to live. But we have an opportunity now to follow Nick’s example of great righteousness, respect, and humanity.

Make Nick proud.

Meredith Elizalde is Nick’s mom. She works in higher education and is based in the Philly area.