Grandfather, you will be missed. After the guests leave, and after the lights are dimmed, and we sit in the darkness of our rooms. You left a lonely space in our family. A pillar was permanently removed when you passed away.
His room upstairs is locked. Three years earlier, it was where he spent most of his time, amongst his children, grieving his late wife. In the solitude of his heart, he was weakened by age, and by the despair of loss. His smile, through his pain, made you feel everything is alright. That the world is at peace. His laughter, subtle, but sincere. The seat of my grandmother, empty, and now his.
His name will remain engraved in our hearts, in our passports, our heritage. We all love his name, repetitive amongst his grandchildren. His intellect, his mercy towards the weak, his appreciation for religious affairs, I hope we inherit.