I thought I knew pain. Half-asleep, my mind tormented with memories of my father, a lay my head down on my pillow. The one my father made. Today was a day I'd always remember, and not as a good one.
"I love you." I whispered into my fathers shirt, tears streaming down my face. This was so wrong. Father doesn't belong in this stiff army uniform. He belongs in his white shirt, with all the pockets, most of which containing treats or paint brushes. I shouldn't be saying goodbye. He should be saying it to me as I make my way to school. "Stay strong for me, Lina.". Still, I wouldn't let go. "Lina, I will be back before you notice I'm really gone! Besides," he whispered."Without you, I wouldn't have the courage to fight for my country. I must be able to have courage in battle, knowing my loved are safe at home. Do you promise me this knowledge?". "Yes Father." I said, feeling stronger because of the promise.
All was well for 3 months. I was fortunate enough to attend school as the Taliban had been driven out of our area. Mother took care of the baby. My older brother, Sharif, went to a different academy for boys, and took his cricket pvlaying very seriously. He was in fact playing it when the man came. The man who ruined my life. I was sitting at the table, finishing my maths assignment. Sharif and his friends were so loud I didn't hear the man myself, just mother calling to me to get the door.
"Can I help you?" I said, not recognizing the man in his official uniform.
"Is this the Mohammed family home." He said, in an uncomfortable tone.
"Well, I have been assigned with the news of informing you that.... Your father has been killed on combat.". I fell to the ground with silent sobs.