Today is not an ordinary day. Today marks the anniversary of the loss of my son, Rakan. My little boy, who came into this world after five years of waiting, lived for only nine months, and then was taken from us in a single moment under the bombardment. On October 9, 2023, at around 2 a.m., I returned from my work as a journalist through the fire and destruction, only to find that my family was buried beneath the rubble… and Rakan was among them. I cannot describe what it feels like for a father to search through the rubble for his child, or how a heart can accept that the little face that once filled our home with life will never come back. Three years have passed… and I still find myself looking for him in the details of my life. In my children’s laughter, in children’s toys, and every time I hold a child in my arms. I once thought time would make the pain easier. Instead, it has only taught me how to carry it. And today, as I hold Yaman in my arms, I feel that Rakan is still with me in another way. Yaman is not a replacement for him, and he never could be. Every child has a place in their father’s heart, and Rakan has a place that no one can ever take. Rakan… You were only nine months of my life, but you left behind a lifetime in my heart. You left this world so young, but your memory grows with me every day. May God have mercy on my son Rakan and make him among the birds of Paradise. May He reunite me with him one day, in a place with no bombardment, no fear, and no separation. I miss you, Rakan… more than words could ever express.