I was His ‘Mother’ Every Day, He was My ‘Day’ with His Every Smile

* Photo: "He dropped a kiss on my cheek before the angel's wing..." Oğuz Arda and his mother Mısra Öz in Karaköy, İstanbul on their last Mother's Day that they celebrated together.

Click to read the article in Turkish

Every mother is precious to her child.

Every child is the apple of their mother's eye.

My son, the apple of my eye Oğuz Arda was my world. I don't know, maybe it was because I became a mother at a very young age and we grew up together...

My child and the child in me became one in this body.
We grew up together in our adventure.
"Mother's Day" was not a single day for me. I was his "mother" every day and he was my "day" with his every smile.
That is why, we wouldn't hold a special celebration.
He would come to me and give me a warm hug, saying "Happy Mother's Day, mommy" and he would keep doing this all day.

May 2018 was apparently our last Mother's Day that we spent together.
How could I know?
He was a grown-up now. He had his favorite places. There were places where he enjoyed spending time. We held hands and went to Karaköy together. We had our pictures taken before the graffitis.
He dropped a kiss on my cheek before an angel's wing. How could I know that he himself would become an angel one day and fly away?

On July 8, 2018, a cry tore apart my heart and rose to the sky. Since then, neither that cry of my heart nor my exclaim stopped.
It was so dark a train that it turned its darkness into our misery.
My son, the apple of my eye, my world left this world with 25 people, including seven other children like him.
It was not a departure of choice. What child knows about death anyway? What person would want to die? The ones who left were the children whose lives were taken.
They were the people whose right to life was denied for chicken feed, for unearned income, for position...

I could not mourn, they did not let it.
The ones who caused this massacre did not even extend their condolences, which made it obvious that they would not claim responsibility. And it was exactly what happened.
The rain was to blame. It was the "fate", as it always is. It was "fitrah" (an Islamic term that can be roughly translated as "original disposition").
But it was a murder, which was the only truth that I knew.
An organized murder resulting from negligences...

Unable to stand the absence of my son, I rightly protested. My reproach to the responsible parties was too much for them. First, they blocked it on social media. They did not want to hear my voice.
"We won't stay silent," we said, we joined hands with all families who lost their loved ones. We began keeping a justice watch.
It was a good thing that we started keeping it. We made our voices heard, just to spite of the ones trying to make the massacre forgotten...
They tried to cover it up, we disclosed the experts who were not objective.
We were battered while expressing our demands.
We were subjected to insults.
But, apparently, it was not enough. They launched investigations against us. These investigations have turned into lawsuits.
All of these were to say "Shut up, hush now."
While that cry tearing apart my heart was as loud as it was on the very first day, how could I hush?
I waged my struggle so that not a single more mother would experience what I went through. I am still struggling for this...
If not, what change will it make if the real responsible ones are given a life sentence? Will it bring my son back?

I have mixed death into my life and my life into death. I made a promise to my son.
I promised that I would keep him alive.
I established a children's association in his name.
"Oğuz Arda Sel Children's Association"
How many children called me "Mother Mısra"...
I heard the voice of my son in every single one of them. Now, I wage a struggle for justice so that mothers will not be separated from their children.
I don't want a single more mother to cry out from the depth of her heart.

A "mother" is the one who is eternal. She is the one who always exists.
I, as the mother of an angel, have reached out for eternity.
Lots of love to everyone who carries the heart of a mother, to mothers in heaven and mothers of angels... 

Mısra Öz attached the following note to the picture on the right: "July 5, 2018 - 3 days before he left." The above picture: The last excitement at school report...

(MÖ/AÖ/SD)