My son was love and light, snuffed out by Israel's machinery of death

Upstairs in my father’s house in Gaza’s Tel al-Sultan neighbourhood, an Israeli-designated “safe zone” west of Rafah city, I remember seeing my son, Abdullah, just a few months before his 13th birthday.

On that day in late 2023, not long after the war erupted, he was in the kitchen making a cup of tea. In his hand was a packet of salted biscuits he had just bought from a local shop.

He said to me: “Dad, do you want to share it?” I replied: “Thanks, my love. I prefer sweet biscuits in the morning.”

“But you’ll like these,” he said. “Try one.”

I took a piece from him. “You’re right.” He told me to let him know when I wanted more, and he’d get me some from the shop.

Read more: My son was love and light, snuffed out by Israel's machinery of death