Amirali Jodavi was a second-grade student.
In the final days of his life, Amirali was waiting more than anything for the birth of his little sister.
His mother was in the last months of pregnancy, and Amirali spoke with excitement about the baby who was soon going to join their family. Even before she was born, he had already chosen a name for her. Each time, with complete certainty, he would say that her name had to be “Aylin.”
Those around him sometimes teased him and asked, jokingly, “What kind of name is Aylin?” But Amirali never changed his mind. He kept repeating the same name.
For him, his little sister was not only a baby on the way. She was part of the future he had already imagined. He wanted her to be known by the name he had chosen for her.
A few days later, before he could see his sister’s birth, the attack on the school changed everything. Amirali was martyred in that tragedy and never had the chance to see the baby he had loved so much before she even came into the world.
But the name he had repeated so many times remained in the family.
In the end, the family chose the very name Amirali had wanted for their daughter.
Now “Aylin” is not only the memory of a child’s choice. It is a sign of the deep love of a brother who left this world before his sister was born.
Amirali Jodavi’s story, carried by the name he left behind, became one of the most painful and lasting memories of his family.