The day her throat was choked with goodbye’s. “Who are you?” I asked. She turned around and replied, “I am from Northern Iraq, I am a mother to fathers to mothers, to boys and girls of all ages. But today, today my children have left me without goodbye’s, dying in my arms was harder than their births” she replied. I asked, “What happened!” she began to cry. It was a Wednesday, March 16th 1988 to be exact, a day that I will never forget. A day that, that haunts me til this very day. They came out of the blue, about 15 of them. It was as if we were deaf as if we were blind; my children didn’t see It coming. For about an hour, although it felt like forever and forever it did feel. They raided my children. As if it was a stampede of wild animals crushing every soul of mine. Hardly anything did they leave behind. And those that made it suffered as well. Wishing it was their souls that they had taken instead. Crying out to the world but no one heard their cries. Shielding their babies, running for their lives. But even their running was no help to this genocide. I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. How could someone allow such a thing to happen, they had to have been heartless. In tears, shaking my head, at the moment all I could do was apologize and tell her that, although I cannot bring back the joys to her life, I will pray for and share her message and the pain she witnessed right before her very own eyes.” as I was about to say farewell I asked, I didn’t quite catch your name, if you don’t mind,” she replied, “Halabja” in a way where it seemed as if something had been lifted off her shoulders as if she knew better days were close by. I smiled back when I saw contentment in her eyes.