In their Shoes: A Journey through Grief and Empathy

How many times can a person really start over before they disappear? Can it be survival, if every step of the way is sacrificing a little bit of your identity behind?

Reading “Refugee” by Alan Gratz was more than just reading a book, it was an emotional journey that mirrored the five stages of grief-denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I came across the five stages of grief while watching a video for school and I immediately connected it to “Refugee”- it was as if the perfect words were found to place on my feelings throughout this journey. 

As I read the interconnected stories of Joseph, Isabel, and Mahmoud, three children refugees from different times and places who were all fleeing their home to find a new home, I was taken on a journey filled with intense emotions and responses that helped me understand the cost you pay in life because of displacement and losing your loved ones. I have read this twice- the first time as a 4th grader, and now as an 8th grader, and both times it affected me deeply. This is my journey. 

My journey began with denial. “This can’t be real?” I thought to myself. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” “This can’t be happening.” 

When I first started reading the book, I distanced myself from all possibilities of this being a reality for some families in the first chapter itself; I was very young. I didn’t believe people could be so heartless. This took a strong toll on my mental health as a child and I almost quit the book. I was reduced to accepting the fact that families like theirs-torn, fragmented, reconstructed, were separated. That loved ones were lost, and people were tortured. I was in denial and still found myself clinging to the hope that the situation might not be as dire as it seemed.

As the story unfolded, anger took denial’s place. I felt angry that these refugees were being held against everything humanity stands for. They were given no rights, no resources. I was angry at the leaders and the systems that were letting this happen. As Isabel’s family was refused entry into the United States, Mahmoud’s family was pushed away multiple times, and my frustration grew. This feeling was parallel to the characters’ own fury, such as Isabel’s anger because of the unfairness of her father’s arrest and Mahmoud’s suppressed anger on how Syrian refugees are mistreated. The anger wasn’t just theirs, but it became mine too. I thought to myself, “Why can’t people stop this?” “Why is no one doing anything?” “Why is no one standing up for these refugees?” This anger, opened a way for a different kind of emotion, not filled with rage, but of desperate hope, the stage of bargaining.

Once I reached the bargaining stage, I found myself with thoughts that were hoping for things to go differently than they did. “Maybe if Joseph’s ship wasn’t turned away…” “What if Mahmoud chose a different route…” “If only someone would have stood up to the Cuban government…” Then maybe, just maybe, none of this would’ve happened. Not so many people would have lost their homes, families, or friends. Maybe, they could have survived. Maybe no one would have been forced to feel the grief, the pain, the heartbreak that consumed you when you lost a loved one. This emotional bargaining reflected the characters’ attempts to maintain control over their own lives. Most of the main events had occurred in the book and when I first read it as a 4th grader, I didn’t understand much of what was going on. I just wanted all of the characters to be safe. Re-reading it now, as a 14 year old girl, I am constantly wondering what would have happened if they’d picked a second option, or changed their decision. These suffocating thoughts began to do what…. led me to go to the next stage of grief, depression.

Depression crashed over me in waves. A deep sadness filled me, especially once the story reached the climax. Joseph’s fate was devastating, and his journey ending was an unimaginable sacrifice. Every loss was like a punch in the stomach. I wanted to stop reading but I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave them alone. Isabel lost their loved ones and Mahmoud watched his baby sister float away. I could only imagine what they went through. The weight of their losses settled in my chest. It was no longer only about events in history, but about children like me and families like mine, facing these traumatic horrors I couldn’t even understand. The sorrow and misery wasn’t fictional, these characters, though not actual people, were as real as anyone who ever faced these experiences. 

Finally, finishing Refugee taught me acceptance. Not acceptance of the injustice caused, but of the reality that we live in. And understanding this, gave me a sense of responsibility. By the time I finished the book, I still felt that grief but it transformed into a motivation to acknowledge this problem. Mahmoud’s story ends with hope, as he and his family are welcomed by a woman who’s brother, Joseph, had sacrificed himself for her survival. This connection gave me the ability to hope that acceptance can and will turn to action and that empathy can inspire change.

Like the change we are fighting for today; the Refugee crisis continues to torment the world, with millions of people still being displaced by war and persecution. In 2025, conflicts like Gaza and Sudan have forced millions out of their homes, limiting their resources, and deepening human suffering. These ongoing conflicts call for a renewed action towards justice, equality, and compassion; a global promise, that no one should suffer. As families and children bear the trauma of these crises, the global response should not just reflect humanitarian aid, but should be a shared responsibility and solidarity. It should communicate a reflection of who we are as a global community.

In conclusion, “Refugee” by Alan Gratz, took me on a journey, not just across place and time, but through the emotional terrain of grief. Each character’s struggle mirrored a stage of grief, teaching me the reality of global refugee crises on a very personal level. This book didn’t just tell a story, but transformed me as a reader, leaving a mark that would be forever called upon for compassion and change.