Suheel al-Nabki, a 28-year old Syrian Christian, was killed by a mortar in Damascus.
His coffin was marched through the streets of the city draped in the Syrian flag.
Several months on, and still blood-stained, it's now the prized possession of Suheel's son, Marwaan.
The four-year old is being raised by his grandmother, Marneen Ab alnassar, who vows to wear a pendant bearing her son's image for the rest of her days, saying it keeps him close to her heart
“I can't believe he is dead, I can feel him in the bedroom, on the balcony drinking coffee,” she said.
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Suheel al-Nabki’s parents say he regularly risked his own life transporting injured Syrians to hospital. They say it’s fitting and appropriate that his image is now displayed publically in Martyrs' Square in Damascus.
“I hope God will register his name as a martyr because he was very kind, his heart is good and he is generous,” Suheel’s mother Marneen Ab alnassar said.
Grieving parents are all too common in Syria.
Daher and Amal lost two of their three sons to the war within four months.
Hanna and Rami
Hanna, a 25-year-old a mechanic, was one of six men fatally shot while manning a check-point. His 23-year-old brother Rami, a law student, was killed by a car bomb.
Sitting in their upmarket Damascus home, the boys’ parents reflect patriotically on the sacrifice the family has made – they say, to create a better Syria.
“It's very difficult, but we don't change our mind towards our country. On the contrary, as a mother of two martyrs we love our country more,” mother Amal said.
Due to the fragmented and rapidly changing nature of the Syrian war, accurately assessing the number of casualties and fatalities is virtually impossible. It's generally accepted that a quarter of a million people have been killed, including tens of thousands of civilians and children and 81 humanitarian workers.
Hanna and Rami's parents, Daher al-Sammara and Amal Sama'an
The death toll still increasing by the day, and mothers, fathers, families and friends, regardless of affliations, have had enough.
“I wish that the last bullet will be on my chest and let this be the end of this war,” Suheel al-Nabki’s mother Marneen said, unable to fight back tears.
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