Every time I try writing this, I wonder to whom it is directed. Is it to you? You, who are no longer among us? Is it to me? I, who wanted to complete and read it at the right time? Is it to others? Others, who may or may not know about you. Or is it an eulogy? A standing eulogy, an eulogy that I couldn't make. I do not know the answer yet.

Whenever I think about you, the vacant chair and the stick of grandmother comes to my mind. I picture myself sitting opposite to the chair and staring at it. I try to recall the numerous discussions that I had with you. You waking up early in the morning, coming out of the house with your glass of hot tea and searching for the newspaper to finally sit on your chair and start reading. But before you start your reading, you pass me some sheets of the newspaper. I take them, admiring at your curiosity (even at 'this age') and continue reading mine. I wait till your first session of reading is over and look forward to your opinions on the news of the day, both local and international. I do wonder, even to this day whether I inherited the curious nature from you.

Grandpa's chair Grandma's stick

I am always thankful for your support, love and care, ever since childhood, for all the times that you motivated me and for all that attention. I had always looked forward to come and see you until the time when I could no longer do so, to talk to you and to listen to all your little anecdotes. But I am especially grateful to you for your encouragement for studies. You were one of the few persons in my life who understood me and encouraged me to move forward after every little achievement in life.