The year of 1365 was a difficult year. I was the mother of five little kids at Twenty-four. I couldn’t deal with all my works single-handed. The war had reached to critical points. Samad had been involved in war and successive operations. Khadija was in the second year of primary school. Masumah was in the first year. I could go to Qayesh fewer because of my kid’s schooling. My father also couldn’t drop in on us because of Sheena’s illness. My sisters were as busy as bee in their own lives and children’s issues. Like Samad’s brothers, my brothers had been involved with war. Most of the time, I woke up in the morning and worked until ten or eleven at night; so I had become impatient and moody, and always I was exhausted.

Operation Karbala-4 began in the Dey of that year. I had heard from my brothers that Samad has taken part in it and commanded. For no operation I was so impatient and worried but this one. I went aimlessly from room to room, since I woke up in the morning. Rosary in my hand, sometimes I sat on my prayer rug and prayed for hours. From morning till night, on the niche, the radio was on and reported the news of operations.

My mother-in-law had come to our house a few days ago. She was very nervous and worried like me. From morning to night, she just said O Sattar, O Samad.

One afternoon, as we both were sitting sad and bored in the room, heard someone knocks. Children ran toward the door and opened it. It was Mr. Shamsollah. He had come from the front, but was unhappy and glum. I thought that certainly something has happened for Samad. My mother-in-law was crying and begging: “If anything is wrong, please tell us too.” Mr. Shamsollah gestured me to go to the kitchen. In excuse of making tea, I went to kitchen and he followed me. He gently and slowly said, so that my mother-in-law doesn’t hear: “Mrs. Qadamkhyr! See what I say. Just don’t scream and make a fuss. Be careful Mom does not know.”