Mohammadmahdi Jangchi was a fifth-grade student.
His father says:
“I was at school when they told us to come and pick Mohammadmahdi. Three or four minutes later, an explosion happened. One of my friends called and said, ‘I am near the school. They have hit the school with a missile. You cannot go there by car.’
I told my wife to call his teacher. She called, but the teacher’s phone was unreachable. We immediately drove toward the school, but on the way, I had to leave the car and run. I did not even lock the car. I only ran.
When I reached the school, I was stunned. The school had become like Karbala.
Later I found out that Mohammadmahdi had not been inside the building at the moment of the explosion. He had been outside, near the schoolyard gate. The force of the blast threw him and his friends. It was too severe to describe.
The blast wave had thrown Mohammadmahdi and his friend against the wall so violently that his shoulder was broken and his body was full of wounds.”
As he speaks, he points with heavy grief to the shoulder, head, and chest, and says that everything had been broken. His shoulder had completely turned. From the knee downward, the force had torn away his legs.
“After the attack, we searched so much. We searched and searched and searched. He was not in the first cold storage. In the second one, I looked through two rows of bodies. In the last row, when only five bodies were left, I saw my Mohammadmahdi lying there.”
He begins to cry.
“I had promised myself that when I came in front of the camera, I would not cry. But …”
And he cries again.
Still, he says he felt a little relief that at least he had found his son’s body.
“I cleaned every part of his body that was still intact. I kissed him. I kissed him so much. His legs were cut off, and I kissed him there too. I had tissues in my hand, and I cleaned him as much as I could. I spoke to my dear son for the last time.”
Then he says:
“Maybe I am different from others, but while I was searching, I kept saying to myself: Is it not enough? I can’t bear. Since last night I have been searching.”
He cries again and repeats:
“I kept saying to myself: Is it not enough, my son?”
Mohammadmahdi was the cherished child of his father and mother, their only child. His father said that his son had played and been happy in the park near their home, and that he should be buried in that same park. Now Mohammadmahdi’s grave is there.
As we walked through the park together, his father and mother showed us different places. His father pointed to the swing with deep feeling and said:
“On this same swing, I used to push Mohammadmahdi. Here, on this very swing.”
Then he pointed to the slide and said:
“He loved this slide very much. But I was afraid. I was afraid for my precious one, my only son, might fall from up there and get hurt. But now he is above, with God.
Mohammadmahdi was not only my child. He was also my friend. I used to tell him, ‘My son, take very good care of yourself. You are our only child.’”
His father says that years from now, even when Mohammadmahdi’s friends grow old, whenever they come to this park, they will see his grave and remember him.
His grieving father and mother took us to Mohammadmahdi’s grave. Through tears, they said that Mohammadmahdi loved our Leader, Seyed Ali Khamenei very much.