Zahra Ansarifar was a second-grade student.
Her father was a servant at the shrine of Imam Reza. Sometimes, when they went to the shrine, her father would wear the servant’s uniform and serve tea. Zahra loved seeing her father’s name written on that uniform. She would keep asking, “Daddy, is this your own name written here?”
Then she would ask him, “How can Mom and I help too? How can we serve?”
Her father would always tell her, “You have to grow a little older.”
Now that Zahra has been martyred, she is always with Imam Reza.
Her mother says that the day before the attack, Zahra had been at her grandmother’s house. She loved Pakareh (a local food), very much. When she came back, she was very happy. She said, “I went there, we played, and I won first place. Aunt Masoumeh gave me chocolate as a prize.”
Her father says, with a lump in his throat, that Zahra was not only his daughter; she was his friend and his comforter. “No matter what I say about her, it will not be enough,” he says.
Once, his cousin called and asked him to go to Isfahan. Zahra, with concern, told him, “You have a cold. You should go to the doctor and get treated first, then you can go Isfahan.”
Her mother recalls the day of the attack:
“For a moment, I thought our house was shaking. Then I heard someone knocking hard on the door. I went and opened it. Our neighbor said, ‘They have fired a missile.’
I ran and called the school service driver. I said, ‘Go quickly and bring my daughter.’ At that same moment, they hit the school too. I wanted to go to the school, but my mother-in-law and my sister would not let me go, because they had struck again with another missile.”
Zahra’s body was found under the rubble during the rescue operation.
Among the belongings found beneath the rubble, there was also a letter Zahra had written to God:
“Hello, my good and kind God. Thank you for giving us many blessings and for giving me good and healthy parents. Kind God, I am always grateful that You are with me everywhere. Thank you for helping me go to second grade, learn my lessons, and learn better things. My good God, I thank You that I came into this beautiful world. Kind God, your blessings are always precious to me.”
Zahra’s mother read this letter, while her father wept uncontrollably.
Her father says:
“The next day, I was telling my mother, ‘May our flower Zahra be sacrificed for our dear Leader.’ Five minutes later, the news came that our Leader had also been martyred.”
Then he begins to cry again.