Expected Name: Duabey

Years ago, in those innocent childhood years before the full weight of life had settled on his shoulders, little Gülcan breathed in the spiritual atmosphere of Üsküdar. One day, in the presence of Aziz Mahmud Hüdayi Hazretleri, he fell asleep within that serene silence. In his dream, Hüdayi Hazretleri appeared before him. A voice full of glad tidings echoed through the room: “You will have a son; name him Duabey. Then you will have another son, Miraçbey; and if you have a daughter, name her Duanaz.”

^{Martyr Duabey Onur Öztürkmen (Source: Gülcan Öztürkmen)}

When little Gülcan awoke, his heart was pounding as if it might leap from his chest. Though still a child, he had fully perceived and vividly remembered the dream. It was not merely a dream—it was a divine sign. He would understand this more clearly many years later.

Years passed. Gülcan grew up and married Derde. Time moved on, and the moment arrived. The promised child opened his eyes to the world. His father Derde added another name to this sacred one, sealing its character: Onur. May he live a life worthy of his name, may he be a noble hero... He did not know that this child would become not only the pride of a family but the honor of an entire nation.

At just fifteen years old, Duabey Onur climbed a windy hill in Gaziantep, carrying in his hands a large red flag. To a child of his age, it was no mere piece of cloth—it was honor, it was love. He planted that flag there, on the highest point, closest to the sky. Perhaps at that very moment, as he gazed at the flag fluttering in the wind, he saw his future. Gülcan and Derde, in raising their children, whispered patriotism to them like a lullaby. Every time they stepped outside, they reminded them: “My children, if you ever see a flag waving above a grave, know that this is the resting place of a martyr. Do not pass by without stopping; pause and recite a Fatiha.”

When the hour came, Duabey Onur donned the uniform he so deeply cherished. He became a soldier, his name woven with prayers, his honor standing tall. And one day, he attained the highest honor—martyrdom. And that brave boy, who at fifteen had planted that flag with his own hands, whose dreams had been nurtured beneath its shadow, was laid to rest directly beneath it.

Now, on that hill in Gaziantep, the wind blows differently. The name Gülcan received in her dream so many years ago now echoes across the heavens. The name Derde wished would “honor him” is reborn with every flutter of the red flag.^【1】