I will share with you some of our moments in this harsh war, a war that not only destroyed homes but also stole the sense of security from our souls, leaving us to live amidst painful memories and constant suffering. This morning, I sat reflecting around me, tears nearly choking me, the weight of sorrow pressing on my chest. I closed my eyes, trying to fend off the memories, but they were like arrows piercing my heart and burning my soul.
I miss my home… I remember the day we were forced to leave it during the first week of the war, as if I were leaving a piece of my soul behind. I wept under the onslaught of memories flooding my mind, trying to hold onto my sanity to contain the pain, but the images and moments were stronger than me, slipping into my heart mercilessly.
My home was full of life: my bed, my closets filled with clothes, my kitchen with all its appliances, my room, my children’s room, my library, my dining room, and my guest area… every corner held the warmth of the days, every space told the story of simple moments that gave us safety and joy, now reduced to memories lost in the silence of absence.
Now, my life has shrunk to a simple tent that neither shelters nor protects us. We all share a meager mattress due to its scarcity. I try to plant patience in my children’s hearts, constantly telling them, “We will have better days,” yet my heart is heavy with doubt, and I do not know if I will ever fulfill this promise.
Memories, despite their cruelty, do not leave us for a moment. Every corner of my small tent reminds me of what I have lost, of what is no longer mine, and every sound and movement opens the doors to the painful past, making me feel like a stranger in my own home and country.
The war did not only steal our homes; it took away our inner peace, making every moment of our lives prone to tears, every breath laden with longing for what was and is no more. Yet, I cling to hope, however faint, and try to pass strength and patience on to my children, so that one day we may live without fear, without a tent, and without the pain that surrounds us at every moment, hoping that life may return to us as it was—or perhaps even more beautiful.
"Donation link for my family⬇️
https://chuffed.org/project/167068-urgent-assistance-for-nada
#Gaza #Palestine
@nada i'm really sorry for the loss of your home, it looked lovely 💔
@shad Yes, it was very beautiful, but with the loss of my home, I felt as if my entire life had left me too."