My Mother
This lady, this woman, is 83 years old, and for the last 4 years she has been bedridden. Until the 7th of October she was at our home. l used to spend 2 or 3 nights with her per week at her house, but on the 1st of October she got sick and needed close care, so I decided to bring her to my home. Since then, she has been with me. On October 12th we left our home to go to my parents-in-law’s home in Nuseirat Camp. In mid-December I moved with her to Rafah, hosted by Abu Khaled Abdelal. On 13th January we moved to a rented apartment in Rafah where we still are.
She was born in 1940 in Almajdal city (the Israelis now call it Ashkelon), 25 km from Gaza to the north. She was 8 years old when she and her family, among the 800,000 Palestinians who were dispossessed from their own homes, villages, towns, and cities, became refugees in Gaza, the West Bank, Jordan, Syria, Lebanon, and many other countries around the world. Her family took refuge in Gaza. Through her life she has witnessed the 1948 war, 1956 war, 1967 war, 1982 war, 1987-94 Intifada, 2007 internal civil war when Hamas took over control of Gaza and killed 200 Palestinians, 2008-09 war, 2012 war, 2014 war, 2021 war, 2022 war, and now the 2023-24 war, which continues.
During these years, these wars, my mother got married and gave birth to 5 sons and 4 daughters.
My mother was in her fifties when she had to grieve for one of her sons.
Her husband, my father, passed away during the 2008-09 war. He died of a heart attack caused by his being so panic-stricken during the war. His heart could not tolerate the fear.
My mother held on, continuing to take care of her sons and daughters. Even when they grew up and got married, she was still there to support, to help, and to spread love.
My mother left her home against her will on 12th October, she could not understand why she should leave her home. She was displaced from Gaza to Nuseirat, again to Rafah, then to Deir Al Balah. On May 7th 2024, the day of the Rafah Invasion, my mother had a brain stroke. She was moved to Al-Aqsa hospital in Deir Al Balah, since then she lost the ability to speak or move, she was fed via a tube through her nose. I don’t know how much she suffered, I don’t want to imagine her suffering, but I know the thing that most hurt her was leaving her home.
Today my mother passed away, away from her sons, away from her daughters, away from her grandchildren, and away from her home. In a strange place, buried in a strange cemetery.
All I wanted was to be with her for her last minutes in this life, all that I wanted was to hold her hand and put a kiss on her forehead.
My mother lived 83 years with no peace. She has passed away now and I hope she will get some peace.