On December 6th, 1995 at 10:15 AM – a Wednesday morning – which would be 23 years ago today, my son Ali came to this world as a great gift to me. I loved and cherished him every day of his life. 

Being a parent is quite a weird thing. And as an extremely empathetical person, I already am very sensitive to others’ sufferings, but when I became a mother, I have found out that those feelings were nothing compared to the empathy you feel for your own child.

When he is sick, you want to take his sickness onto yourself rather than seeing him in that state, when he is sad, you get ten times sadder than him, when he is frustrated, you try everything to help him solve his problem. And think that as he grows up and becomes adult himself you will start feeling less and less that way, but no, your child is always your child.

I wanted him to be a good person, a happy person, happiness has always been the most important thing I wanted him to have, rather than success at school or sports, or anything else for that matter. I wanted him to do whatever he does out of love, not out of obligation. Because I believe if you love what you do with your life, then your happiness is almost guaranteed.

I am proud of how a fine young man he has become. And when I have attended the convocation ceremony a couple of weeks ago, shouted out and said; “I am proud of you son!” while professors and other attending parents were smiling hearing my proud mother voice.

My son; you are my joy, and I am very grateful for having you. I only wish the best of everything for you, as long as it will make you happy though 🙂

Happy birthday and many more… I love you.

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