Ahmed

Dear friends and compassionate souls, I write to you with a heart filled with an indescribable sorrow and pain that no words can fully express. My name is Ahmed Osama, and I am from Gaza, Palestine. On the night of October 22, 2023, my life was shattered in a single moment. I was returning from the market with food for my wife and our four children when a deafening explosion erupted. I immediately called my wife, but there was no answer. Moments later, a friend called to tell me that the entire residential block, included the home where my wife and children were staying , had been reduced to rubble. I rushed to the site, only to find the lifeless bodies of my beloved children- my seven-year-old twins, Malik and Miral, and our five-year-old daughter, Nisma. My wife, Areej, was critically injured, and my youngest son, Muhammad, was found with severe injuries, broken bones, and deep wounds. My wife fought for her life in the ICU for two days before she passed away. Now, I am left alone with Muhammad, my only surviving child. He has undergone four surgeries to treat his injuries and spent two weeks in Al-Aqsa Hospital. Though he is now in a more stable condition, the emotional and physical scars remain, and the loss we carry is beyond measure. Before the war, I worked as an English teacher. Our home was filled with love and laughter. That life is now gone. Our house in northern Gaza has been destroyed, and I have lost my job. We have no source of income. Today, I live with my elderly parents—both of whom suffer from chronic illnesses—along with my two sisters, my brother, and my son Muhammad. I am now the sole provider for my entire family, and the burden has become overwhelming. The situation in Gaza is catastrophic. Bombings continue daily, the borders are closed, and humanitarian aid is nearly nonexistent. We are facing severe shortages of essentials—there is no electricity, no gas, no clean drinking water, and the cost of basic goods is beyond reach. Each day brings more hardship. In this moment of unimaginable suffering, I turn to you with a humble plea. Any support you can offer—no matter how small—could help us survive these dark times and give Muhammad the future every child deserves. You can offer support through this link: https://gofund.me/a2ac7dd6 Please, if you are unable to help or donate, I kindly ask you to share my story in the hope that it may reach others with generosity and compassionate hearts 🙏 Thank you, from the depths of my heart, for taking the time to read our story. Your kindness could make all the difference for our survival and for Muhammad’s hope-filled future. With deep gratitude and sorrow, Ahmed Osama

O people of kind and merciful hearts, 🙏💔

I will speak to you about my story and my tragedy in some detail, for my heart is writhing in pain and longing. 😔🙏

My heart was torn apart, my very being crushed under the unbearable weight of sorrow. My life came to a complete halt, and I found myself living in a world devoid of life. That moment—the moment I received the call that shattered my existence, tore through the depths of my soul, and made everything around me collapse. I cannot forget that day; it is etched into my memory in letters of blood and tears. Every moment, I hear their voices in the silence of the night. I feel their innocence surrounding me as if they never left. I used to dream of their future—how they would grow up in my arms, how I would witness their successes and joys. But the cruelty of fate snatched them away before I could bid them farewell, before I could shower them with my love forever. 💔

My wife—the soul of my soul, my heart, and the pillar of my life. She was strong, patient, capable of facing hardships with a smile, shouldering burdens on my behalf. She embraced our children with indescribable love, filling our home with peace and tranquility. She was my support in every moment, someone I relied on as much as I relied on myself. 💔😔

Malik, my little twin soul, I saw him as my support just as I was his. With his intelligence, courage, and beautiful laughter that filled our home with joy, I imagined a future full of ambitions with him. 💔😔

Miral, the apple of my eye, was calm, intelligent, diligent in her studies, and obedient in everything we asked of her. She was a reflection of her mother in her devotion and kindness, always excelling in everything she did. 💔😔

Nisma, my little angel, was meticulous, clever, and a miniature version of me. I watched her grow before my eyes. She carried a purity I had never seen in anyone else, as if she were a piece of paradise sent to fill our lives with unparalleled happiness. 💔😔

Just hours before they were martyred, we sat together, laughing, embracing one another with indescribable love. Before I left, they all lined up at the door, and I hugged them one by one—except for Muhammad, my youngest child, who could not bear to part with me. With a trembling voice, he said, "Baba, don’t say goodbye; I want to go with you." He burst into tears, and my heart could not bear the weight of the moment. It felt like a final farewell. 😔

Something inside me was warning me, though I did not understand it at the time. It felt like I was living the last moments with them, but I could not fully grasp it. I bent down, took Muhammad in my arms, kissed him, reassured him, and cried silently… as if my heart already knew that I would never see them again.

I left, leaving behind my entire life—everything that made me smile, everything that gave me strength to carry on.

Hours later, I received that call. The voice on the other end was distorted, unclear, but the words pierced through me like sharp knives: "The residential block where your wife and children lived was bombed. The house has turned to rubble."

I could not comprehend it. I could not process what had just been said. My wife?! My children?! I collapsed and lost consciousness. 😔

Every day since that moment has been an unhealing wound. I relive that moment over and over again. I see them in every corner. I hear their laughter in every part of the house—but they are not here. Every time I look at their empty places, I feel as if I am drowning in an endless sea of grief and longing. Now, all I have left are their memories and tears that never dry. 😭

All that remains is my youngest child, Muhammad, who is now four years old. I pulled him from beneath the rubble. He suffered a fracture in his leg and underwent four surgeries, none of which were successful due to the lack of medical resources in Gaza's hospitals. This has resulted in a difference in the length of his legs. But I will do everything in my power to continue his treatment.

I place my hope in people of generosity and kindness like you. Any donation, no matter how small, will help us get through this phase. Muhammad is now my only hope in this life. He gives me the strength to keep going despite the unbearable hardships we are facing.

All I wish for is to secure a future for him filled with love, happiness, and safety—just like any other child in this world.

In addition to that, I am now living with my elderly parents, who suffer from multiple illnesses, as well as my two sisters, my brother, and my son. I am the sole provider for all of them, with no source of income after losing my job as an English translator and after our home in northern Gaza was completely destroyed.

I place my full hope in you to stand by my side, to support me, and to help me overcome this unimaginable tragedy. 💔🙏😞 Attached is my GoFundMe link to help us overcome this suffering and hardship ❤️🙏🥹 https://gofund.me/8a827ae4

Dear friends and kind-hearted 🙏❤️🇵🇸 My name is Ahmed Osama, and I write to you with a heart shattered beyond repair. I am a father who has lost everything in the war on Gaza—my beloved wife, my three beautiful children, my home, my livelihood, and the very life I once knew. My wife, the love of my life, was taken from me in an instant. Alongside her, my twin children, Malik and Miral, only seven years old, were killed. Their laughter, their dreams, their innocent joy—erased by the brutality of war. My youngest daughter, Nisma, only five, was also stolen from me. She was my light, my little angel, and I can still hear her calling for me in my dreams, only to wake up to a reality where she is no longer here.😔🙏 The only survivor of that horrific night was my three-year-old son, Muhammad. I pulled him from beneath the rubble with my own hands, his small body broken and covered in dust and blood. His leg was fractured, and despite undergoing four surgeries in Gaza’s overwhelmed hospitals, none were successful due to the dire lack of medical resources. Now, one of his legs is shorter than the other, a permanent reminder of the horrors he endured. He also suffered head injuries that continue to affect him.🙏😔 Muhammad is still in need of further medical treatment, and his journey toward recovery is far from over. We are unable to continue his treatment due to the lack of resources, and the overwhelming costs.🙏😔 As if this loss and pain were not enough, our home in northern Gaza was completely destroyed, along with an apartment we once owned. We have nowhere to return to. I have also lost my job as an English translator, leaving us with no source of income. Today, I live with my elderly parents, who suffer from several health conditions, as well as my two sisters, my brother, and my son. I am the sole provider for them all, carrying the weight of our survival on my shoulders. But how do you rebuild a life from nothing? How do you create a home when war has taken everything from you? The situation here is dire. The cost of food and basic necessities is still incredibly high in Gaza, making it nearly impossible to afford what we need to survive. Despite our desperate situation, we have not received any humanitarian aid. We are suffering, day after day, without support. I refuse to let Muhammad grow up in despair. I want to build a future for him—a home filled with love, happiness, and safety. A place where he can heal, learn, and dream like any other child. I want to give him a life where he does not have to live in the shadow of war but in the light of hope. But I cannot do this alone. I am reaching out to you, to anyone with a heart that still believes in humanity, to help me rebuild our lives. Your kindness, your generosity, your support—no matter how small—can change our future. It can give Muhammad a chance to walk again without pain, to sleep in a safe home, and to grow up knowing that the world has not abandoned him. Please, help me give my son the life that was stolen from him. Help me turn our tragedy into a new beginning.🙏❤️🫂🇵🇸 Attached is my GoFundMe link: https://gofund.me/adf7edc2 With deep gratitude, Ahmed Osam