He sat on his father's king-sized bed while he watched his father pack a suitcase full with clothes, his mother helping him. His father was dressed in a brown uniform with his messy raven hair tied back into a ponytail while his mother was dressed in a plain white floral sundress and sandals. Things around the house have been difficult, even for the young six year old son, who knew nothing of what was happening but had a feeling just like any average child would get and that feeling told him something was going on. Over the past three months he would see his mother sob into his father's arms almost every night, they would argue in the very room they were in now at least once every week, his father was at home and no longer worked at the factory, and his mother became more depressed as thte monthes went by until this day.

The son, still sitting on his parents' bed and watching them pack his father's suitcase, he asked the question that has kept coming from his lips, "Where are you going, dad?" His mother bit her lip and his father gave him a sad smile, "I'm just going to be away for awhile."

"Will you come back?" He asked curiously.

"Eventually..." His voice faded into the air as he spoke, his face becoming gloomy. His father set his hand atop his head and went back to packing his suitcase with his wife, the son leaving the matter at that for the time being. He believed his father and didn't think anything of it. The packing finally finished his father set forth for downstairs, grabbing the suitcase and carrying it down with him, his wife and son following behind him to say their goodbyes.

When they set foot in the livingroom, the father sat his suitcase down, gave his wife a hug and a kiss as she started to sob uncontrolably onto his shoulder then when she calmed down he moved to his son, giving him a hug and kiss on the forehead. He said good bye to them both, lifted his suitcase, ruffled his son's hair and then left.

Nine years have passed since that fateful day. He, the son, during that time learned that the reason his father was gone the whole time was because of the fact that he was going to war. His father explained that to him through his letters and his one time visit on Christmas day a couple years ago. Of course, his father never gave him the details of what was happening over in the war. He never was able to talk about what went on. He never knew why until he finally asked his mom why. She only said that it's because you see so much death and pain from each attack the troops do and you see so much that sometimes people are unwilling to speak of it, especially if you see a good friend or even sometimes another family member die in front of you. The school shows people the Hollywood thing, having most of the other characters die and the main one survive. That's even what they show in school sometimes, of course, depending on what teacher you had. But that's the way he saw it at first. Everyone survived. Today, though, his father was coming home from the war and staying. He was excited to say the least. To calm down his anxiety he put his Motley Crue CD into the stereo, turned it most of it up, layed on his bed and read one of his X-Men comics that he grabbed.

"Damian!" A female voice called from downstairs.

He got up quickly and hurriedly went downstairs, ecstatic to be seeing his dad again. The smile on his face was glowing then dropped when he made it to his mom. There was no man next to her or in front of her, only a letter in her hands. What was surprising was that his mom was crying uncotrollably with a hand over her mouth. He causiously walked up to her and layed a hand on her shoulder once reaching her. She stuttered words he couldn't understand. She noticed this and instead of trying to tell him she just gave him the letter to read. He took it with a raised eyebrow and read it carefully. He read the letter over and over, each time his body becoming cold and rigid. He understood now. Shocked and upset he brought his mom into his arms, embracing her close as she cried onto his shoulder, holding back his own tears as he tried to be strong for his mom's sake.

The words of the preacher droned on and on, unnoticed from the son. His mind was off in his memories that he had. He was one of the few people not crying. The people around him, on the other hand, were around the burial as well with tears flowing down their cheeks as they mourned the death of his father. Their tears stained their clothing causing dark blotches of the color they were wearing. His mother was in his arms crying once again so he held her comfortly and tightly. The preacher ended with a prayer then the casket went into the ground not too long after the prayer. Everyone started to leave for their cars to leave and his grip on his mother left as he let go of her. She also went to the car, not being able to take much more of the scene. Everyone that was around the burial was now away from the site, leaving him alone. He continued to watch the casket even when they started to shovel the dirt in the hole and cover it.

If he was younger he would be crying like his mother right now and screaming for his dad to come back. He'd probably even try to get into the hole then get pulled out with him struggling against whoever grabbed him and scream for them to stop filling the six feet deep hole. Except...he wasn't a child anymore. He has grown older, more mature and understanding of life. His father wasn't going to come back and there was no way for him to get back. He had to be strong, not just for himself, but also for his mom. She's a very sensitive, kind and caring lady and for that he can be strong for the both of them. He will help her with anything she needed, consol her in times such as these.

They finally finished the shoveling once the hole got filled and they, too, left the site. Now, only he stood there before the grave. He bent down to one knee in front of the grave and layed his hand upon the tombstone. Tears started to flow down his cheeks as he finally let himself go. He was finally alone so he felt the need to. He muffled his crying as his tears fell like rain. That day was raining hard. Not weather wise, but emotionally wise. Their hearts rained tears of mournful cries.