Tekoşer, Lorenzo, Orso. This is for you. The following are words that I have meant to tell you for a long time
Do you remember the first time we met? I do. You were sitting on a chair on the patio of the white house, smoking a cigarette, and smiling. You were very talkative, you told me about the lengthy journey you took to reach here. I must admit, my first impression about you was a bit short of a fearless warrior, a bit more on the jolly goofball side. But what did I know, this goofball would become the closest to a best friend I ever had in Rojava, and perhaps for the rest of my life.
So it has been a saga. We did some of the most extraordinary and dangerous things together. Remember that time we were suppose to move back and forth under heavy airstrike and drone activities for three days? I did not know how we survived the ordeal, but it was a lot of fun. Remember when dogs were following us, I got nervous and said we should scare them away because they could have exposed our location? But you protested, whined that we should keep them with us because they are so cute!
To be comrade in arms is not always easy. I have flaws, you have flaws; there were occasions that I wronged you, and so did you. But you have never hesitate to give me your honest opinion and sometime brutally unforgiving criticism. In my darkest slumber, you came to my aid and pulled me back up. Overtime, I have come to recognize you as a loyal friend and a true comrade.
We enthusiastically discussed that one day I will come to visit your homeland, and you will show me all the beauty that she has to offer. I kept my promise, I came. I stood in front of your final resting place, and you were there once more smiling at me. Martyrs are immortal, we say. It is true. As I continue onward on the path of struggle, your smile, you voice and your words keep coming back to me. Heval Kêfxweş, thank you for everything. I will see you again at the end.