I heard my mother scream my name as she came to me. She looked deep in my eyes. "I love you my dear son, please always remember this," she said and squeezed my hands tightly then turned suddenly with her hands raised. She walked slowly over to the twenty or so soldiers protecting the diplomats who wanted to destroy our homes. She was saying something to them as she got closer. When she got within about a foot of them, she turned to look at me once last time. There was pain and heartache in her eyes. Then, she turned back to the soldiers and screamed, "La-Ilaha-Illallah Muhammadur Rasulullah. ALLAHU AKBAR." Before I could react, there was a huge explosion that knocked me from my feet. The soldiers and Israeli diplomats lay dead or dying in the streets. My ears rang. I couldn't hear the screams and cries of my people or the moans of the dying. I looked up and saw my mother's head laying a few feet from me. It was severed from her body and severely burnt. In her cold dead eyes, I saw peace. It was something I had never seen before in her eyes. I cradled her head in my arms and wept. For I knew I was alone now. Everything had been taken from me by Israel. I hated the Israelis so much. I wept for what was to come because of this.