A tale from the Hakawati

Uncle Jihad use to tell me an Iraqi story about whom to mourn.
It seems the great Caliph Haroun al -Rashid was traveling among his people when he came across a woman weeping. He asked the cause of her immense sorrow, and she replied that she was mourning her beloved son, who had just died. He asked her what her son did while he was alive. She said he worked for her. She was poor, and her son kept her alive. She no longer had anyone to take care of her and no one to make her a living. "Cry no more," said the caliph. "I will give you a sturdy mule. He will work hard for you and help you earn a living. You shall not miss your son. You will be as comfortable as you were before."

Haroun al-Rashid moved on. He came across another woman crying next to the grave of her son. The caliph asked her the same question, "What did your son do while he was alive?"

"My son?" He use to gather honest nobles and men of good repute to his feasts. He would serve them the most delicious of meals. He would entertain them with th emost ambrosial of music, regale them with the greatest tales. When these men left his feasts, he would ride with them, keeping them company until they lost sight of his tent."

"Weep on, O mother of a most gracious son," said the caliph. "Cry and shed more tears, for no one, certainly not I, can comfort you or make good such a great loss"

And Haroun al Rashid wept.