As inadequate as it may sound, please accept my deepest sympathies and condolences on the loss of your son. My girlfriend and I were close friends with Andrew when we were all in Bosnia together and were shocked to learn that he had died unexpectedly.

Barbara and I were to be travelling through Turkey next month and had given thought to trying to find Andrew for a visit. We'd not seen him since he left Sarajevo, and had only heard in passing how he was doing. So now, instead, I find myself trying to decide which of the recollections we have of Andrew would be of use to you or bring you comfort to read in this email.

I don't know the customs in Turkey for situations like this, but hope that you will not be offended if I remember Andrew and commend him to you, because he truly was a wonderful person and a good friend.

Working with the OSCE and the international community in Sarajevo was not an easy thing for any of us. Everyone was out of their home country, many were working in a second or third language, and all were having to adjust to the multi-cultural environment in which we found ourselves. The situation was made more stressful because the decisions made at highest levels in international forums were so very difficult to implement on the ground in Bosnia. So we often found ourselves stressed, frustrated, and dismayed by the end of the work week.

I first met Andrew as part of an international group of friends who made it a point to do something fun on the weekend. It might have been a dinner at an ethnic restaurant, or dancing at one of the clubs until almost dawn. Or perhaps it was a trip up into the mountains around Sarajevo or to one of the more beautiful parks in the area. But almost every weekend this group could be found doing something to unwind and relieve some of the constant stress of working in Sarajevo. And Andrew was one of the chief 'healers' in the group.

Some of us - and I speak candidly of myself here - are not as good as others at releiving stress and 'unwinding' at the end of the week. But Andrew had such a great personality and was so full of infectious laughter and humor that it was impossible to not be drawn into the mood of the group. His stories of places he'd travelled and his observations and even imitations of people he worked with were guaranteed to bring laughter to the group. He was a natural entertainer and healer in those settings and did more than he knew or we acknowledged at the time to help keep us all sane and reasonably happy in difficult situations.

I particularly remember a time when a van full of us (both sexes and half a dozen nationalities) were trying to go to the military base for "western" fast food and to shop at the post exchange (large American-style stores that are usually reserved for the US military). We'd slipped past the guards in the past with a cursory inspection of our identification cards but, on this evening, There were Turkish guards at the gate. Now, as a former military person myself, I mean only the highest compliment when I say that Turkish guards are NEVER cursory in the performance of their duties. In fact, when I saw that the guard had been changed from Norwegians to Turks, I was ready to turn around and abandon our trip.

Andrew, however, would not hear of it. It was a cool night and drizzling rain. Not good weather to be out on guard post. Nor was it particularly pleasant weather for the rest of us either. But Andrew began chatting with the Turkish guards while others of us tried our connections in the military compound as well. (If this sounds like a lot of work for nothing more than fast food and a shopping trip, perhaps that is indicative of how bleak the social life in Sarajevo really was!) After 20 minutes that seemed like hours, we finally got limited permission from the military headquarters for some members of our party to go through the gate. But the guards, with whom Andrew was now on a first-name basis, allowed Andrew to escort our whole group onto the base. It wouldn't have worked without Andrew being gregarious enough and so honestly himself enough to win the friendship of the Turkish guards and even the commanding officer of the guard shift.

What I remember about that night was that the bluster of some of our American colleagues, and the whining of our Canadians didn't get us anywhere. But your son, Andrew, through his natural charm and ability to make friends in any situation took care of us all.

I know that story doesn't sound like much when read on the typed page, but I think it captures what I liked so much about Andrew. He didn't make a big production out of helping his friends and doing things for people. He just made problems seem not-so-bad, and he made things easier for his friends whenever he could.

I think that if I died suddenly I would want my friends to write my parents and tell them what I was like. Because, as a father myself now, I think I'd most wonder "What was my son like in the days since he left our home?" Mr. and Mrs. Akleman, you could not have hoped for a more considerate and caring son. He was a good friend to many of us; maintained his sense of humanity among the suffering of Bosnia; was a conscientious worker at the OSCE who often did more than was required, just because he could see what needed to be done and wanted to do it. Andrew was a really good person. And, in my humble opinion, regardless of ethnic origin, religion, or personal situation, there is no better epithat than to have been a really good person in the eyes of ones friends.

I hope that this message brings you some small moment of happiness or, if that's just not possible in the circumstances, that it has at least lightened the burden of sorrow you must be feeling. I certainly hope that I have not offended either of you in any fashion, nor made your difficulties more painful.

Please know that many of us, scattered around the world since our days in Sarajevo, all share your loss and will miss Andrew's presence among us.

With deepest condolences, I am