I first met Olle Bergman on a crisp summer evening in 2018. He was visiting our university to present at a TEDx event, but some of us – members of the biochemistry & cell biology club – got the opportunity to attend a special session with him, before his presentation. My friend and I were running a little late to the event, and much to our chagrin, the only seats left in the seminar room were the ones in the very front row, right under Olle’s gaze.

Within minutes, Olle had the whole room mesmerised by his passion for language, semiotics, science, and communication. He was extremely animated and charismatic and unafraid of asking deep, open-ended questions to the audience. So when he asked, “Does anyone here write? Perhaps on a blog?”, I knew I had to raise my hand to tell him that I did and that it was fundamental to my being. He looked right into my eyes as I was speaking, beaming with pride – a kind of pride that emanates from someone who has nurtured you their whole life. He didn’t know who I was, what I wrote, or why I was brave enough to tell my story. He then said, “Send me the link! And keep up the good work!”

It was in that moment that I knew he was going to change my life profoundly. And change he did.

For the past year, I have struggled to finish this piece. I have written it out on paper, in many journals and notebooks, in my notes app, and here, on this blog. Not only was I in complete shambles by the second paragraph every time I tried, but I also felt like my words wouldn’t do him justice. And I also wished he’d be here to read this, to give me constructive feedback, and to tell me how glad he was about our paths crossing. The grief hasn’t left me or quietened down. I have struggled to write anything at all, knowing that he’s not here to edit it for me or inspire me with bigger and better ideas.

But then I realised that he wouldn’t have wanted me to slow down like this, to feel any sort of obstacle in the way of doing what I love the most – writing. He would have wanted me to continue putting my thoughts on paper, sharing them with the world, growing, learning, and staying curious. So I have decided to do just that, and what better way to pick up the pen again than by remembering the person who was a guiding light for me during uncertain times, and one of my biggest cheerleaders.

Olle had a zeal for life that I had never seen before in anyone I had met. He was always in the present, enjoying the big and small moments, but also constantly looking forward to the next exciting thing. He could be working on a lecture series, but he would already be thinking about his next book. He would write letters to those he cared about, documenting in detail the events of his life, not ever expecting one in return. He was just happy to share a bit of himself and the beauty of the world through his eyes. His goal in life was to never be boring.

He was also a deeply compassionate man, unafraid of sharing it with anyone he met. There is an army of people dotted across the world who have the most endearing stories of their encounters with Olle, and how he would always remember to check in on them and remember the little things in their lives. You could rely on him without having to ask, and he would be the first person on your doorstep if you ever needed help. If you were on a call with him talking about your life in London, he’d give you a list of approximately 20 people he knew in London who would be willing to give you company, out of goodwill for Olle.

Anyone whose life he touched turned into magic.

And oh, was he grateful! Through every good and bad day, Olle would find reasons to be grateful for the better things he had experienced, for the life and family he had, and for the wonders of nature. He could be upset about something and still be grateful for the people he was surrounded by, the woods behind his house, and how the evening felt the day he welcomed Midsummer with his family.

I have many, many more adjectives to describe the man he was, but these were the qualities I want to remember him by because he helped me appreciate the little things in life, see beauty in the mundane, and keep loved ones very close. To this day, the latter is a resolution I make at the start of every new year.

I could share more anecdotes about Olle and our myriad conversations, but all of this is now deeply sacred, stored away in a special place in my heart, to be cherished for the rest of my life.

Thank you, Olle, for your brightness and your wisdom, and for being an unlikely pillar of support. I think about you every day, and I do hope you are proud of me.

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Read more about Olle and his life: In Conversation – Olle Bergman