Like moth to a flame, I was fascinated by my father's military uniform. The stars fastened on his shoulder reminded me of a summer night. 

We exercised together. He taught me some combat skills. Together, we fought against make-believe enemies, but the thought of handling a real gun clouded my fantasy. I pressed him for a chance. He never obliged. Unknown to me, the world where real guns belonged was a scary dream.

It was at the birth of my parent's impending separation. I was drowning in a dilemma. I had to choose between the two people who have guarded me from the cradle like a cave full of gold. The thought of it gave me chills. 

Celine, my older sister, had decided she would choose our mother once our parents divorced. She wanted nothing to do with our father, and she wanted me to decamp from our father's side too.

Fearful would be an understatement. I was tormented. What is a world without my parents together?

One evening, while a heated argument spread between them, diffusing into the air around us like a wildfire, I pointed at the screen of our TV. That scene of smoke and great fire melded with my imagination of what a bomb blast would look like. Some people walked out badly injured. Others unscathed, but there were those who laid still on stretchers like the air at midnight.

Celine jerked to her feet from the cushion. Her eyes whipped from the TV to my parent's room. Their voices had died down to ashes. 

Her eyes held a hue of fear. I didn't understand her, until our father exited the bedroom dressed and packed. He was leaving.

The anger that has been burning fiery red in my mother's eyes was replaced. The way she held him. I could see she was afraid of his departure. I persuaded him to stay home, or take me with him. I wanted to help.

" Keep mom safe. Someday, she will need you most," he ordered. His eyes were grave and hollow. He left, casting a long shadow before he disappeared in the crowd.

Weeks turned into months. I kept my hope alive. After all, he was my superman. He will return.

That day came. We heard a knock, and Celine darted to the door. Her face fell. She turned on her heels, and hurried into her room with similar speed. Her flooded eyes was the hint my mother saw before she broke down on the floor.

I marched to the door, holding the reins of my heart. I met another soldier, and in his hands was a letter and a uniform.

" You must be Daniel," he reached out for a handshake. Looking at the uniform, I could tell my father spoke of this day.

There was no divorce, no separation, but a funeral. I held his uniform with a surge of emotion swirling inside me. He knew he would not return. He could have said a proper goodbye, but the call of duty was urgent.

Seeing Celine and our mother frozen before his casket, I remembered his last words. He had given me a direct order, and I must obey.

In honour of soldiers who left home and never returned.