Dear mother of Ali ?smail?

I know your life also came to an end when your son died. Each morning when you wake up, maybe you forget about his absence in the drowsiness of early morning. Sleep is like that, it makes you forget, it heals.

But the moment you splash some water on your face, you remember. Your heartache begins.

Maybe you have never washed that green t-shirt of his, you go and smell it every now and then. You?ve got a point there; when your beloved passes away, you cannot see him, hear him, touch him. But this smell, that smell of his? That remains behind as a consolation prize.

But, even that has an expiry date, dear mother.

Maybe at every sunset, you bring his voice to your mind. Maybe this is because, maybe, you are afraid of forgetting his voice. I know, dear mother, what kind of a panic one goes through thinking you would forget the voice of your beloved one.

His face is always in front of your eyes. How can it not be? We cannot erase his face from our thoughts either.

His photographs of all sizes are always in your hand, in your bosom. But that frame is ice-cold; when you touch it, your hands get cold.

Even his heartfelt smile does not warm your heart; it is a moment of the past, after all.

Of course, you know he is gone. Nobody has ever returned from that road. You are done with objecting to that. For a long time, you struggled to bring the perpetrators to account.

Once you said, ?My son was innocent and was a very good person. He even liked animals very much.? Do you know, dear mother, that whenever we see a dog, a stray dog, we pet him for Ali ?smail?

Whenever an innocent person is accused, we tell them, ?Ali ?smail was also innocent.?

I don?t know if we are as good...

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