Colorful shroud

My niece was jumping with joy,
when her father suddenly came home, who was a soldier.
Her father would often come suddenly and surprise her.
She was watching toys brought by her father,
and her father was watching her with great love—as he will never see her again.
Two months after his return, one day, suddenly a jeep stopped outside our house.
Some soldiers brought out a big box from that jeep.
None of us could dare to go near that box—only my niece went to near that box.
When she looked in the box, he had her father in it.
Her father was martyred while protecting the country.
Except my niece, all were crying over their martyrdom.
She was silencing everyone and saying that tears should not be shed on martyrdom—tribute should be paid.
At the funeral, she asked me about the colorful shroud, which was worn to her father—because the shroud is white in color.
I told her that this colorful shroud is the national flag, worn to soldiers who are martyred for the country.
She also wanted to be worthy of this colorful shroud.
After that day, as she started waiting,
passage of this time; and the coming of that time,
when she will make herself worthy of this colorful shroud.