""Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God."
My father died in the explosion. It was hours later and the assault was over. I woke up on the hard hallway ground and went to the window to see rubble and bodies and people crying. I went down stairs and asked what happened. I was told it was a large explosion to take out a tank. It however was not used for that purpose. I looked amongst the bodies to see familiar faces. None were my father, no he was down the street. I stumbled over to his lifeless body. His face burnt to a crisp and his body still giving off heat...but not his own. I fell to my knees and hugged his warm body. "I'm sorry " is all I could say before men were there trying to move his body with the others to count the death tool. I took his tags off and placed them around my neck as a symbol of respect. They took his body and I headed toward home to tell mom of the news. I walked home and was brought to my knees by the sight of my mother on the front lawn with a stab wound from an energy sword. My head spun and I wanted to die...but then I saw her...my sister laying on the couch unharmed...mom sacrificed herself for grace. I to this day blame my for both of their deaths. My sadness was short lived because with no family left I had to take care of grace by myself.
