Gönderen: Babası Şibay / 8 Ağustos 2025
Tüvana, the first light of my heart.
The day you were born, they showed you to me in the hospital. You were a baby with spiky hair. Sometimes, I would let you fall asleep on my chest. And in those moments, I wished I could open up my chest and draw you into me.
You were about two or three in that photo I always kept in front of me — your blonde hair shone like gold in the sun, and you were smiling.
Tüvana, under your mother’s guidance, you started nursery school at Charles de Gaulle High School, and from there, you eventually graduated.
You were such a cheerful child. We once travelled to visit Canadian relatives — your mother, you, and your sister Dilara. They loved you both dearly. And there was that one time we went to Istanbul, just the three of us. We stayed at a hotel in Taksim. The next morning, we boarded a ferry across the Bosphorus, and I told you both the names of the docks: Üsküdar, Beylerbeyi, Çengelköy. That was your first encounter with Istanbul.
You had a beautiful school life. In your final year of high school, you and your class, led by your athletic French teacher, went on a week-long cycling tour through Cappadocia. I remember the photo — you, smiling in colour, and I realised my little girl had become a young woman.
There’s also that photo of us dancing at the İşbank Club, just you and me. We both looked so happy — I certainly was, dancing with my daughter.
And then we returned to that same hotel in Taksim for the Galatasaray University entrance exam. While you were inside, I chatted with some of the women waiting for their children — they had all hired private tutors. When you came out and said, “Dad, I passed,” I didn’t believe you. But you had. You truly had.
Then came your time at Galatasaray University, your illness in the first year, your job at Suada, and later at Reina. And then the Reina tragedy… You’ve faced disasters in your life — and always found your way out. Your last venture, opening the MYO restaurant, was a new beginning.
You spent the first eighteen years of your life in Ankara, but you never returned. You chose to live in Istanbul. I remained in Ankara.
My dearest daughter, you blazed into our lives like a star, left your mark, and then, just as suddenly, vanished like one too.
Like a star that appears briefly in the night sky — and then disappears. You will always be my first, my brightest light.
Sleep peacefully, my beloved daughter. With your pure, crystal-clear heart. You were always too pristine for this world.
Until we meet again.
Your father, Şibay.
