My grandmother, Mansoura, which means victorious in Arabic, was forced to leave her home during the Nakba in 1948. In a way, maybe I’m luckier than my grandmother: I am back in what remains of my home. I was his only and favourite child.”On a dark, gloomy summer morning, my grandmother woke up to a chaotic atmosphere around her. I’m grateful she passed away before she was forced to relive the Nakba, forced to evacuate her home again. But I am still hopeful, and I will keep hope alive for my grandmother and Palestine.