As a child, I remember my father as a powerful man! He had arms of iron and a mind sharp as a sword. He was a great Assyrian warrior! He would tell us great stories of battle, the good and bad. When my father was gone, my mother took care of me and the household. She would bake bread for him and his brothers when they set off for battle. After a successful defeat, our family would be showered with wine, cheese and fruit from the King's men. He may have killed many, but that is what he was made to do. One day my father set off on yet another battle to the east. The Assyrian warriors were due back in three days. Upon their return, my mother and I were awakened by my father's warrior brother. He told us the most devastating news...my courageous father has lost his life. The realization was there and we knew this could happen, but we could do nothing but cry in disbelief. My father was my idol and I would grow to make him proud! This was the day I decided I would become a great warrior...just like him!