Uncle Aydin has died

Elif Ural

Ever since he left, everyone has been talking about Aydin Abi or the main journalist Aydin.

As my tongue twisted I wanted to write about Uncle Aydin.

A friend of my father and uncle Aydin Ödemiş, from the first grade of elementary school (maybe even earlier), I think.

I always enjoyed hearing from both my father and Uncle Aydin, when my grandfather, Latif Bay, an elementary school teacher, took them both to the city library when school was on holiday and told the librarian, “Don’t leave these before the book. . “

After elementary school, I went to boarding school in Izmir, I always heard about the “Aidin engine” from my father, but since I was away from home and Uncle Aydin did not often come to Odemish, he was my father’s childhood friend, the journalist Aydin. The engine, for me at the moment, is up to 20 years old. When my father was Savga Ural Until he died of cerebral hemorrhage.

My father is dead. Uncle Aydin wrote a letter to Tirmik stating that “Savga is dead”.

I was in university. I was like a fish out of water. I was scared. I don’t remember the exact date and place of our first conversation after the funeral, but I still hear him say “OK, don’t cry, don’t worry, I’m here now” while I cry.

From that day on he took the adjective ‘uncle’ and I became ‘nephew’.

I work for Reuters in Izmir, but now it’s my turn to come to Istanbul. I called Uncle Aiden, “Hang up, I’ll call You, “he said.

After me Sigdam Anad And said, “I have a niece. This girl works for Reuters. She speaks very good English. Let’s see if she’s a foreign correspondent.” Says

I came to Istanbul and became a foreign messenger. If I am now in charge of the Middle East at Al Jazeera in Qatar, because my uncle Aydin made that phone call.

When I first arrived in Istanbul, I had no place to stay, dear Lace They opened their home with my sister. I live with them in Bailerbei. I work shifts at CnnTürk. I come to pick up the service at 2 in the morning, I hit the road to go to work at 5. Uncle Aydin joked to me every evening, “Look at me, you can’t see anyone but the shuttle driver, you stay home.”

I have been in Israel for several years. I do journalism. When some newspapers asked me to write a column for a column, he first forced me to send him every article. He first approved and corrected each article.

In every explosion, in every war, for 5 years I was there, Two Every day, “How are you? Don’t leave me unaware. Signature: Uncle” Always put a smile on my face.

Over the years, in those messages, “You don’t sound. Call me. Uncle” and “Uncle Aydin, don’t worry, I’m fine. I’ll call you as soon as possible. Nephew.” Sentence was our routine.

When I came back to Turkey, there was always something going on in my life, good or bad. Especially in his words, every time my tail got stuck, Uncle Aydin became my compass.

He puts money in my pocket when I break down. “Blackout neck,” he scolded when I was fired or couldn’t find a job. He gave strategies when applying for a new job. He encouraged me to make decisions when I was scared.

Although he started journalism when I wasn’t in the world, when I was talking about Middle East development, “Well, Elif, what does that mean?” He asked my opinion, really curious.

I am 48 years old today, and I have no idea where and how I would live without him.

We talked the day before the last surgery. When I said, “I’ll call you again in two days,” he said, “Don’t call, let me rest a little, I’m ready on the pretext that I’m out of surgery,” and we laughed.

I couldn’t guess that this was our last conversation.

I still think the phone will ring and tell me, “Elif, I don’t think you’re making a sound.”

His incredible biography, legendary journalism, brilliant humanity, naughtiness and I think, most importantly, his extraordinary courage remain with me.

When I see what is written everywhere, my heart breaks and I am proud inside because he called me “my nephew”.

But I tell you, every time I pick up the phone, I have to write to him:

Uncle Aydin, everyone is reporting that Aydin Abi is dead, he is doing it, but my father has died a second time, so no one knows. What can I do?

Signed: Nephew

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