Srinagar, May 13 -- On the morning of May 12, 2012, the world lost a man few beyond his village may have known, but whose presence shaped mine completely.

My grandfather, Assad Ullah of Dadasara Tral, passed away that day. It's been thirteen years-4,748 days-and still, I find myself looking for him in my victories, in my prayers, in quiet moments when the world slows down.

He wasn't famous. He didn't seek attention. But he carried a rare kind of greatness. The kind that doesn't announce itself, but leaves its mark on everyone it touches.

To me, he was everything. Grandfather, yes, but also protector, teacher, companion, and the man who quietly built the foundation I stand on today.

I grew up under his watchful eyes, in the same house,...