Nothing does more damage to our creative ambitions than the loss of our dearest well-wishers. And the wound is even deeper when the loss is inflicted upon by Death, the nemesis of human mortality. Different souls celebrate us differently. While some honor us with love, others cherish us with prayers. Some do both. My grandmother belonged to the third kind. She was an active listener to all my wild ideas since I was a child. And was extremely proud of those little things I accomplished from my dreams. Even in her last years, she generously celebrated any news connected with my writings. She was often tormented by various critical illnesses. But that did not stop her from taking pride and displaying it openly. I was told that once when was in treatment at the hospital, she was reading the features section of a newspaper when the doctor was making his rounds of checkup. As the doctor approached, she eagerly showed him the article saying, ‘Look. This is my grandson’. It will be not be the same after she is gone. I will miss one of my greatest well wishers and fans. A mother of nine children and grandma to several others, she underwent tremendous challenges in life. After her death, she is now on the winning side with the prayers of this mammoth family she brought up, directly or indirectly. She was an ardent worshiper of her Lord, reciting the Holy Book at everyday dawn, and was profound in her usage of proverbs in daily conversations. She was well versed in folklore poetry and was intrigued by contemporary political events. Strange qualities for a woman of her generation I always felt I was her most loved grandchild. And fortunately, I could join her funeral rites, the first ever in my life. I was with her when she was being wrapped in the burial shroud, funeral procession, put to rest in the grave and finally prayers after it was sealed. She joined the hereafter-league of her husband and eldest son I saw a faded smile when I was arranging the shroud. May Allah keep her smiling always.