The Girl with a Book in Her Hand

The Girl with a Book in Her Hand Sana was an avid reader—perhaps one of the most passionate readers I’ve ever known. The year before she passed away, her Goodreads account showed she had read over 200 books. That number didn’t surprise me. She had been reading since she was three years old, often curling up in quiet corners with a book that seemed larger than her little hands could hold. Her favorite place in the world was the library, and wherever we lived, she always found her way to one. People who knew Sana often recall seeing her walk down the hallway with a book in hand, completely immersed in another world. It was her superpower—disconnecting from the noise around her and diving deep into the pages of stories that brought her comfort, adventure, and sometimes escape. This was Sana. But reading wasn’t her only gift. Sana had an incredibly gentle nature, one that drew children to her instinctively. There was something in her quiet honesty, her warmth, and her soft-spoken ways that made children feel safe and seen. When I taught at the German School in Singapore, Sana would often come with me to class. She would help out with art projects, blending in like a natural. My students adored her, and so did their parents. To them, she wasn’t just my daughter—she was someone who radiated kindness and calm. There were many families we connected with deeply during our time there, and some of those bonds have lasted even to this day. One such family had two boys who had both been in my class. They loved Sana, and we spent many wonderful afternoons in their home—sharing coffee, laughter, and meals. Just a few days ago, the mother of those boys sent me a photo of them all grown up. One of them is about to graduate, and seeing them brought back so many memories. They hadn’t heard about Sana’s passing, so I gently shared the heartbreaking news. The shock and sadness in their response reminded me once again of the impact Sana had on everyone she met. They sent me a photo of the last time Sana had visited their home—a treasured memory frozen in time. Sana had this rare ability to make genuine connections with people, especially children. She never tried to impress; she simply showed up as herself—kind, honest, and present. And that was more than enough. That’s what made her unforgettable. She will always be remembered for her love of books, her gentle heart, and the quiet way she touched people’s lives. And I will always carry these memories, each one like a page from the story of her life—a story that, although cut short, was filled with beauty, kindness, and meaning.