September 19, 2026 - Our son’s triumph was undeniable: he had earned his place at Sabancı University, Turkey. The air in our home was filled with joy, laughter, and pride. Yet, in an instant, that joy was pierced—at the check‑in counter, he collapsed into a seizure. Panic surged through us. We rushed him to the hospital, clinging to hope that a doctor’s note might allow him to continue his journey. But the answer was no. Flights had to be rescheduled, and suddenly we were thrust into a desperate race against time, scrambling to gather funds for new tickets at the very last moment.
To every family member and friend who gave so generously—thank you, from the deepest chambers of our hearts. Your kindness was the lifeline we clung to when the world felt too heavy. Even now, I whisper to myself: how will I ever repay such love? That question lingers, unanswered, but carried with reverence.
And yet, behind it all, stood his mother—unyielding, unbreakable. Her will was the anchor of the family. She refused despair, refused surrender. With every sleepless night, every whispered prayer, she carried the weight of hope on her shoulders. Her strength was not loud, but it was absolute: the kind of strength that bends but never breaks, that insists her son will rise, no matter the storm.
His siblings, too, became his silent army. They gave without hesitation—time, comfort, encouragement, and sacrifice. They stood shoulder to shoulder, refusing to let him feel alone. Their unwavering support was a shield, their love a constant reminder that he was never walking this path by himself.
We owe special gratitude to Saifullah Haridi, who has stood faithfully by our son since 2024. He was always around helping him from the MARA College days until Sabanci University today. His loyalty has been unshaken, his friendship a pillar. He has given his full commitment—not only to our son, but to his father as well—walking beside them through every trial.
Hadi and Saifullah Haridi
The journey itself was not without pain. Lingering ulcers on his tongue made speaking a torment, each word a struggle. His father traveled with him, refusing to let him face it alone. For two full days, he was there—at registration, at every step of settling in, tending to his son’s needs with quiet strength.
And all the while, in the quiet corners of my heart, there lies a fear I can barely speak: will he be able to endure all these years ahead? Can he stand strong through every challenge, every illness, every hard day far from home? Only Allah knows what lies ahead. Only He sees the road before him. And so I send my son forward with nothing but my deepest, most desperate wish—that he will succeed, that he will thrive, that every struggle will become his strength.
Then came the moment of parting. Afternoon light fell across them as Hadi stood tall, refusing to show weakness. He has no weakness, and he must remain strong. But when his father turned to leave, the dam broke. All the worry, all the love, all the pride, and every silent prayer that had been held back came rushing forth. He wept—hard, unrestrained—as he walked away, leaving his son standing steady, beginning a life not as we had imagined, but braver. A journey shaped by grace, carried by your kindness, by a mother’s unyielding will, by siblings who never faltered, by a friend who never left his side, and by a father’s love that follows him every step of the way.
Thank you—all of you—for being the hands that lifted us when we faltered, the hearts that gave us strength when ours were breaking.
No comments:
Post a Comment