Christine Dawood still can't quite believe that her husband of 20 years, Shahzada, and her beloved son Suleman are no longer with her. It has now been seven months since she last saw them climb into the Titan submersible for what she describes as “the big adventure” in terms of the many adventures of this remarkable family.
Last June, an hour and 45 minutes after beginning a dive in the North Atlantic to view the wreck of the Titanic off the coast of Newfoundland, the Titan lost communication with its supply ship, the Polar Prince.
For four days, Christine and her then 17-year-old daughter Alina waited aboard the ship for 48-year-old businessman and philanthropist Shahzada and 19-year-old Suleman to return to the surface.
They never did that. Instead, they died on their ill-fated adventure with three other crew members, including Stockton Rush, the CEO of Titan owner OceanGate. “The moment we knew they had found debris and there were no survivors, Alina and I went on deck. Until that moment we had had hope. We took some cushions and just sat there looking at the sea. We both cried.
“I turned to her and said, 'I'm a widow now.' She said, “Yes, and I'm an only child.” Then we cried some more.
Shahzada Dawood and his son Suleman (pictured) died during a dive in the North Atlantic to view the wreck of the Titanic off the coast of Newfoundland, during which their submersible Titan lost communication with its supply ship
One hour and 45 minutes into the dive in the North Atlantic off the coast of Newfoundland, the Titan lost communication with its support ship, the Polar Prince
Christine Dawood (pictured) still can't quite believe that her husband of 20 years, Shahzada, and their beloved son Suleman are no longer with her
“Apart from a few business trips that Shahzada returned to.” [his native] Pakistan, we did everything together.
“It’s waking up every morning.” . . Sometimes I still don't believe it. The opportunity to do so [Titan] Imploding never crossed our minds. “It's terrible to lose a husband, but to lose a child…”
She leans back and stares at the ceiling.
“My son had an emergency cesarean section.” I almost lost him. “I just thought he was this angel that was given to me,” she says. “I wouldn't have had him without modern medicine.” He was an old soul – a people person who made everyone feel special.
“I love being a mother. I have Alina, but I never wanted to be a single mother of an only child.
“No parent should have to grieve for their child. It's unnatural. Suddenly your meaning, your identity is ripped away from you.'
She looks at me with eyes swimming with sadness.
Monday would have been Suleman's 20th birthday. Christine ordered some balloons because her son was “always happy” when she bought them for him.
This year, however, there will be “no Happy Birthday printed on the balloons – neither names nor numbers,” she says. They are simply filled with helium and float into the glass roof of the atrium.
She will celebrate her son's birthday and remember him and his father. She wants the world to remember her too.
Mother Christine is seen with her son Suleman when he was a toddler aged two
Christine is seen traveling to the Titanic with her husband before his tragic death last year
Debris from the submersible Titan, recovered from the seabed near the Titanic wreck, is unloaded from the Horizon Arctic ship at the Canadian Coast Guard pier in St. John's, Newfoundland
Safety concerns included lighting and handles purchased from hardware stores and no international safety certificate
That's why she decided to give her first in-depth interview since the tragedy. In the first days after the Titan imploded, Christine spoke briefly about her husband and son, but her grief was too great to speak about it in detail.
Today, of course, the sadness is still there, but somehow it also finds a touch of humor.
This warm family home in Surrey once rang with laughter. Her husband and daughter, she tells me, are two like-minded people with great minds and the ability to see “the big picture,” while she and Suleman are practical, solution-oriented souls.
She and her beloved son loved animals and went on long walks together in the Surrey Hills with their gentle Burmese mountain dog, Stig, where they talked “about anything and everything.” He was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, which is saying a lot considering he was a teenager.”
Christine adds: “He was very aware of the opportunities his privilege afforded him.” “In 2019 we took our children to Greenland because that's where the iceberg that sank the Titanic came from.”
She rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. It's warming to see her humor as she remembers happier times.
“My husband kept telling the children that it was a great privilege to see the glaciers.” He said that in another five to 10 years the place would have changed due to global warming. Suleman really took it to heart. He kept telling everyone that this was a life-changing moment for him.
“He became more aware of the environment and wanted to make a difference.” He cared about wealth inequality and wanted to work for a world in which wealth was more evenly distributed. I want the world to remember him like that.'
Suleman Dawood was just 19 years old when he went on the Titanic voyage with his father
It's been seven months since she last saw them climb into the Titan submersible
She tells me Suleman was a “very loving son” who was never too embarrassed to return his mother’s kisses. When she dreams about him, which she does often, she still feels his hugs.
“We don’t have graves for them,” she says. “There were no bodies, but we were there recently.” [she, Alina and Shahzada’s younger sister, Sabrina] went to Singapore. The sea was warm enough for us to go in and I really felt her around me. I thought, 'This is such a gift.' I don't need a grave because every time I'm in the ocean I can connect with them because they're a part of it.”
“We stood there with our skirts draped over our arms and cried for ten minutes. It was very, very cathartic. When I think about them now, they're just sleeping down there [in the ocean].'
Suleman was at Strathclyde University in Glasgow, studying business administration and human resources, and wanted to work with his father in the family business when they boarded the Polar Prince to view the wreck of the Titanic in the submersible Titan. They had already planned the trip before Covid.
“We started talking about it in 2018,” says Christine. “I was supposed to go with my husband, but due to the delay with Covid, Suleman turned 18 and wanted to go.”
Humor flashes again as she explains. “The idea of going down and then up in a small submersible for eight hours wasn't exactly my favorite idea.
Suleman is seen as a young boy. Christine tells me that Suleman was a “very loving son” who was never too embarrassed to return his mother’s kisses
The company's titanium submersible. Rescuers raced against time to find the missing submersible carrying five people
“I get bored on flights when you can at least watch movies.” What do you do when you sink under the sea in complete darkness for four hours? I mean, there's only so much you can talk to one person about.”
Despite all their adventures, the Dawoods were “not risk-taking types,” she says. We wouldn't jump off bridges or out of planes. The [Titan] was outside of our comfort zone. “The Polar Prince was a decommissioned rescue ship and I was very seasick.”
She falls silent for a moment. “I barely interacted with them [the night before] because I puked so much. I went to bed pretty early.' The next morning, her husband was so excited that he was “literally beaming,” she says.
Her son was also thrilled to be able to share this experience with his father. He had decided to break the boredom of this four-hour journey into the depths by solving a Rubik's cube 3,700 meters below the ocean's surface.
Christine remembers that Shahzada looked “a bit like a swan on water” as he stumbled up the Titan. “He wasn’t elegant, but he was charming,” she says.
Suleman wore his favorite red hoodie. “He lived in it,” Christine remembers fondly. “He wore it everywhere, even in the height of summer.”
“In hindsight, would I have wanted them not to go? Absolutely – but I can’t really say I would have denied them such an opportunity. If they had come back and nothing had happened, the story would have been very different.'
Christine is an extraordinary woman. She says: “I'm widowed, I've lost a child and I'm not even 50 yet. I'm 48.” But this is presented as fact without self-pity.
She tells me that she grew up in the Alps near Munich, where the weather can change within an hour. “You learn to accept that there are some things you can’t control,” she says. “If the snow suddenly comes in, you can't change it with stubborn will.” You have to accept it, live with it and adapt. I think this will help me now.'
Christine remembers that Shahzada looked “a bit like a swan on water” as he stumbled up the Titan. “He wasn’t elegant, but he was charming,” she says
Rescuers searched thousands of square miles in the remote North Atlantic for the missing submersible
Shahzada was not only Christine's husband but also her best friend. They met at Reutlingen University in their home country of Germany. As the son of a prominent Pakistani family, he was, she says, “completely different from everyone else I knew.” He was the opposite of the blonde, blue-eyed Germans. But I think opposites attract.
“I saw a soul mate because our values were the same. Honesty was a big theme. Respect for a higher power was also very important. As does curiosity. “We loved learning together.” Christine converted to Islam and, despite her engineering degree, happily gave up her job to raise her children. “I thought it was really important to instill the right values in them, especially in a fast-paced world like ours,” she says.
“Because I was a housewife, I was also a supportive wife. When that is suddenly ripped away from you. . .' She doesn't finish the sentence. There is no need. The great loss she suffered is felt everywhere.
The house is full of happy family photos: Suleman as a baby; Shahzada with Margaret Thatcher at his graduation from Buckingham University; her children with their cousins on a tractor at the family farm in Lahore.
I wonder if she's angry about OceanGate. After all, experts have since claimed that CEO Stockton Rush ignored warnings that his ship was unsafe.
“You would call that complicated,” she says. “There were many people who supported us during this time. So, anger at OceanGate? I don't know. But Stockton is not my favorite person in this mess.'
She added: “It's difficult because we don't know exactly what happened as the investigation is still ongoing.” But I'm angry.
“After the tragedy, we were only able to return home in October because we had started renovating the house. We were staying with my in-laws, but finally I said, “We need the workers out of the house.” I need my space. . . My reason.'
'It was dark [when we returned]. I tried to turn on the light but the fuse blew. I lost my temper and insulted the whole world because I felt so alone. I thought, “It's just me now.” “I'm the only adult in the house.”'
Christine stops and offers me another cup of coffee. “I guess there’s still a lot to be grateful for,” she says. “I love going out into the forest. I love nature and I have a lot of people around me who support me. I have a lot of love in my life – a lot of friendships.
“But I still can’t enter Suleman’s room. When the construction workers came, we packed up his room. His things are still in boxes that I never unpacked. I can't.'
She tries to muster a smile. “Now the year 2024 begins, who knows? 2023 was like this black hole, darkness. . . “With the new year, maybe we can shed some light,” she muses.
“What will that look like? I do not know yet.'