“My mind is about to explode, and my heart is bursting with sadness and pain. I forgot myself and my pain. Never stop thinking about my grandfather, the patient man who forbade sadness. My grandmother, the struggling woman from her youth who contributed to my upbringing and I called her “Mama” in my childhood, lost four of her children, three to this war. And seven of her grandchildren, my oldest brother’s son, 16 this spring. Her phone said her first words: “Rest in peace, sister, your mother and your uncle, the gentle ones are gone.” My uncle Zaher is considered a patient who lost his three children and his wife. And Abraham, my cousin, the child who lost his mother, father, and brothers, and life will meet him alone without a tender embrace to caress him or a brother to tighten his bone with him.
Inside me, there is a great pain that cannot be erased by an earthquake that switches the earth above the ground and not a nuclear bomb that erases all who contributed to our bloodbath.
Oh my God! Only you can crush this halal virus from existence. Only Allah has the power to avenge.”
Martyrdom of my uncle Awad, my aunt Latifa, her husband Haitham, her two children Muhammad Ahmed, my uncle Zaher’s wife, his three children Amona, Rahaf, and Youssef
May Allah reward us for our sick
Oh God, tie our hearts together.”
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If you would like to help Mobammed financially and or send him and his family a card or gift, please let me know, and I will send you his information.
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