I am Alaa Al-Najjar, a pediatrician at Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis, and a mother of ten children who were my life, my path, and my entire existence. The eldest is Yahya, 12 years old, the wisest and calmest among them. He always helped me. He would lean his shoulder toward his father when he grew tired, or when he felt the world was harsh…
After him comes Adam, 11 years old. He loved football; you would find him playing with the ball in the corridors and among the rubble. His brother Rakan, 10 years old, was obsessed with cars, dreaming of driving one someday…
Eve, my artist daughter, 9 years old, loved to draw. She used to color on the walls of the house and draw a world more beautiful than the one around us…
Jubran, in his 8th year. His tongue was faster than his thinking. At times, his laughter would overpower the shelling; he made us laugh even when we were afraid…
Ruslan, seven years old, loved Barbie dolls, and kept brushing her hair as if she was facing destruction with beauty…
And Reval, five years old. And Sadeen, who had not yet completed three years…
Luqman, my little one, two years old, was very active, never calmed down, except when in my lap…
As for Sidra, the youngest of them all… Child of the war… She had not completed a year and did not know what safety meant…
On Friday morning, my husband, Dr. Hamad Al-Najjar, drove me to the hospital. I said goodbye to my children one by one and went out to treat other people’s children. I began my work as usual, holding the hands of wounded children, calming them, comforting them, and gathering the tears of their mothers..
And suddenly… Suddenly, the civil defense teams entered, carrying many bags. Each bag contained a small body, charred, torn apart, its features unrecognizable. And suddenly I saw my husband and my son Adam, brought into the emergency room on stretchers, covered with a layer of ash and blood, its color pale.
My heart collapsed, and I began to realize… I realized that those arriving were my children, the ones I had said goodbye to that morning. I ran looking with my eyes: where is Yahya? Where is Eve? Where are Luqman and Sidra?
But I didn’t find them… I didn’t find a single body whole… I did not find a hug to bid farewell to, nor a heart to tell: I didn’t mean to be late… you were my soul… and you reached Paradise before me.