Back in 2009, when I wasn’t allowed to take up the job I dreamed of a new beginning as a journalist, when I was scolded for daring to leave my old job, and even denied two months of salary for that decision, I broke down completely. And in that moment of despair, the only person I turned to was you. You didn’t offer judgments. You didn’t ask questions. You simply held me with the quiet strength you always carried and said: “Saratha, all these scoldings will one day turn into blessings. Don’t cry. You’ll understand what I mean someday.” I did, Miss. I lived long enough to understand the truth in your words. And I told you that. I told you how right you were and how every scar eventually shaped a strength I didn’t know I had. Today, I write this with a heavy heart. I miss you more than words can hold. Your kindness, your wisdom, your unshakable belief in your students , in me are things I will carry with me forever. You were not just a teacher. You were our guide, our shelter, our quiet warrior who taught us to stand tall even when we didn’t believe we could. You were a true treasure to our school. We are here today because of the seeds you planted , in our minds, in our hearts. The way you shaped our lives, the effort you poured into us, the way you stayed connected long after the classroom days ended , it all speaks of a love that was never conditional, never fading. I still keep the essays and speeches you corrected for me, nearly 25 years ago. I hold them like keepsakes from a time when your red pen guided more than just grammar. You lived your life for your students , wise, caring, and determined to see the best in us, even when we couldn’t see it ourselves. Thank you, Miss, for everything. Rest in peace, my beloved teacher. We will never find another like you. Never again. With all my heart, Saratha