Her real name is Saida Abu Odeh. She has been my mother's friend since their school days. They went through every stage of school together, from elementary to middle and high school.
Israel killed all seven of her children and her husband. Saida happened to be away from home, going to the market. If she had not been there, she might have suffered the same fate as them.
Saida had been displaced, living in a classroom at a UNRWA school that had been turned into a shelter. When she returned, she was devastated to discover that her entire family had been killed. All seven of her children and her husband were gone. Oh, God, what kind of pain can a mother's heart endure after losing her seven children and her husband all at once?
As for my mother, she broke down when she learned what had happened to her lifelong friend. She could not bear the shock. She cried with such deep pain that her eyes seemed to wither from shedding so many tears. How can someone face the reality that her childhood friend, the person with whom she shared years of school and some of the most precious memories of her life, has lost her entire family in such a heartbreaking way?
Why must we endure so much pain in Gaza? Why are we forced to lose our loved ones in such horrific ways? What kind of life are we living, when our homes become memories, our families become names we weep over, and simply staying alive becomes a source of pain?
Oh, God, how many broken hearts are there in Gaza? How many mothers are enduring pain that words cannot describe? How many families have been wiped out? How many mothers have been left alone, carrying nothing but memories and tears, wondering how they can go on living after losing everything?
Gaza is not just numbers and headlines. It is mothers whose hearts have been shattered, children deprived of their families, lifelong friendships marked by tragedy, and hearts that will never be the same again.
Mike
