It was the third war in the Gaza Strip when a family lost their dearest pregnant daughter along with her two sons, aged six and four. Samar wasn’t an ordinary person that anyone could pass by and easily forget, she was the sunshine to everyone in her life. She wasn’t only my cousin, but my best friend. All catastrophes are nothing compared to the death of a loved one. When she died she changed everyone’s life, not only did we have to deal with her sudden death, but we had to move on accepting the fact that she won’t be there anymore.
She was a mother and a teacher, she raised her two sons and worked hard to give her best at the school. She was a fighter.
When the last war started, she knew that where she lived wasn’t safe enough for her and her two sons, so she moved to another area, seeking safety and refuge. Not long after, a heavy shelling started on the neighborhood she moved to a place where she thought she would be safer. She moved to the center of the city, seeking refuge at her sister-in-law’s apartment.
But death is unpredictable, she couldn’t stand against her faith, she was to die no matter where she went. On the 21st of July 2014, right before breaking their fast during Ramadan, a missile hit the apartment, killing Samar, her two sons, her mother-in-law, her sister-in-law, and her husband. One is left, with a thousand whys and endless question marks of why thousands of innocent souls were killed. We were only one of thousand families who lost their dearest ones. Others lost their homes, mothers lost their sons, husbands lost their wives. Nothing in the world would justify the shelling, the missiles, the bombing, or the killing.
We lived a lifetime of war within the 51 days.
May their souls rest in peace.