The day my brother Sami was born, my grandfather planted a tree for him in our garden; naming it after Sami. It was in honor of his first grandson that he was so joyful about. The tree grew and gave us fruits over the years, its branches giving us shade from the sun’s glare. Sami was growing alongside it, learning and studying until he became a doctor; his giving spirit resembling that of his tree. This was up until the crisis in Syria began. As a doctor he helped care for the wounded, but one day a stray bullet found its way to him and took away his life. All that was left of Sami is the tree carrying his name. The tree continued to give from its fruits, but then winter arrived. In the absence of energy resources to keep us warm we fell into a dilemma; should we cut down the tree and use its wood, or keep it as a memory of my brother?