My Story
This year, I’m running the London Marathon not just for personal achievement, but to honor one of the most influential people in my life—my late tezja Dritë (my aunt). More than just a family member, tezja Dritë was the matriarch who raised my mother and a guiding force who brought light and warmth into our lives. Her profound ability to see and connect with people made every interaction special; she treated everyone with respect and dignity, whether they were a 7-year-old child or someone well into their adult years, making each person feel genuinely seen and valued. Though she moved to the UK before I was born, the memories I have of her are etched deeply in my mind, forming some of the most important experiences of my life. One such memory dates back to my struggles in first grade with learning disabilities, a time when everyone's doubts made me question my own intelligence. Was I normal? Was there something wrong with me? Amidst these turbulent thoughts, tezja Dritë was a beacon of reassurance. She comforted me by saying, "It's okay that you're struggling; first grade is the hardest, but it will get easier with time." Her words were a prophecy; not only did it get easier, but here I am now, a PhD holder embarking on a second master’s degree, just for the joy of learning. Our final conversation was about something as ordinary as my workout routine—a topic that might seem trivial to some. Yet, tezja Dritë engaged with genuine enthusiasm, asking about my exercises, admiring my muscle tone, and even throwing in a compliment about my Bianchi road bike. Her interest in these simple details of my life was a testament to how she showed interest and really got excited about you. Tezja Dritë had a charisma that lit up every room, yet she always made sure to reflect that brightness back onto you. She was like a large, deep-rooted tree, but not like a walnut tree under whose shadow nothing could grow; rather, she was like a majestic oak tree whose generous canopy nurtured all beneath it—enriching the soil and fostering life in its embrace. Her presence was a sanctuary that enabled everyone around her to thrive, beautifully enhancing the landscape of our lives. Running through the streets of London, each mile I conquer is a step in memory of tezja Dritë. I’m fundraising to fight the very disease that took her from us—cancer. This marathon is more than just a physical challenge; it’s a journey fueled by love, remembrance, and a commitment to make a difference in the fight against a disease that affects so many lives. Tezja Dritë’s spirit of resilience and compassion drives me forward, turning every stride into a tribute to her enduring influence on my life. With gratitude and in her memory, Hana
