I Lost My Beautiful Father at 12 Years Old

Since the onset of the Israeli war on the Gaza Strip in October 2023, my family and I have lived in constant fear due to the relentless Israeli bombardments. The occupation targeted a house neighbouring ours, causing extensive damage to our home. We sought refuge at our grandmother’s house in Rafah, while my father remained in Nuseirat camp in central Gaza. Tragically, a few days after our departure to Rafah, our house was bombed by the occupation, resulting in the deaths of my father, my uncle, and dozens of our neighbours. The loss of our father has left us to face the war without his support.

My name is Youssef Qawash, and I am 12 years old. I live with my mother, Hanan, who teaches religious education at a Palestinian government school. I have four brothers: Bilal, 14; Suwar, ten; Anwar, six; and my youngest brother Ahmed, four. Our father, Ayman, provided for our family. Our lives were beautiful together, but they have now become miserable after the loss of our father and the destruction of our home.

My father meant everything to us. He worked as a civil engineer, managing his own engineering office located on the first floor of our house. Before the war, due to work commitments, we didn’t see much of him during the week. However, he always made sure to organize a weekly outing for us. We would go to Gaza City, visit a small amusement park, dine together at a restaurant, and enjoy desserts before returning home joyfully. Our father’s presence was our greatest joy.

During this war, my father lost his job. He spent more time with us, trying to reassure us that the bombing was far from our home. We felt safe in his presence, cherishing every moment with him. Little did we know that we were bidding him farewell during those last days we spent together with our beloved father.

In early January 2024, occupation forces entered the camps in central Gaza, including Nuseirat where we lived. They ordered all residents to evacuate. We fled once again to our grandmother’s house in Rafah, but our father chose to stay behind in our house. Tearfully, we said goodbye to him and left for Rafah. It would be the last time we saw our father.

A few days later, while we were in Rafah, the occupation bombed the residential area where we had lived, completely destroying two houses, including ours. My father, Ayman Anwar Qawash, 37, was martyred in the bombing, along with my uncle Hussam, a nurse at Al-Shifa Hospital, and more than 18 neighbours from the Al- Shabrawi family, most of them children.

We received news of the bombing while in Rafah. My uncles, Dr. Mohammed and Abdul Latif, went to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital to search for my father and uncle Hussam. They found my uncle Hussam martyred at the hospital, but my father was not among the identified bodies. Many martyrs arrived at the hospital unidentifiable due to their condition and were buried in a mass grave. To this day, we do not know if my father was among them or if he remains buried under the rubble of our home. The lack of equipment has prevented us from retrieving his body.

Losing our father and uncle in the bombing was a devastating blow. We also lost our home, where my grandfather and uncles lived. Each uncle had their own apartment, and there was a large apartment for my grandfather. My father had recently built a floor for us and furnished it completely before he was martyred. Now, we have lost our provider and our home. We are homeless.

Like all children in the world, it is my right to live in dignity, security, and peace. Like all children who have lost a parent, it is my right to visit my father’s grave and know where he is buried. For the past four months, I have searched every cemetery in Al- Qassam in the middle of Nuseirat camp, southern Nuseirat, and Al-Shubani west of the camp. My uncles have searched in Deir al- Balah and Maghazi, but no one knows where my father is buried. This uncertainty is a pain beyond what we can bear.

Our ground-floor house included two dental clinics: one for my grandfather, Dr. Anwar, a renowned dentist, and one for my uncle, Dr. Mohammed, who worked alongside two nurses.

Both clinics were destroyed by the occupation, leaving the staff without jobs and patients without care. Despite the war, my uncle Mohammed continued to treat patients.
The occupation also destroyed my father’s private engineering office, where he had designed housing plans for many families. We lost the income that supported our livelihood. The occupation has taken everything from us in this war.

Previously, we had food, water, and all our needs met thanks to our father. My brothers and I excelled in our studies. Now, we struggle to find food, often having only one or two meals a day. Water is scarce, and there is no education available as schools, mostly spared from Israeli bombing, have become shelters for displaced people. We have lost an entire academic year due to the war.

At the beginning of September 2023, we started a new school year. I began sixth grade at UNRWA schools with my siblings. Just one month later, the war began, halting life in Gaza. Schools became shelters for thousands of displaced people, and classrooms turned into sleeping quarters. Many of my classmates and teachers were martyred, and Israeli airstrikes destroyed dozens of schools and universities across Gaza, causing widespread destruction.

We were supposed to sit for semester exams in January 2024 and end-of-year exams in June 2024. However, with the war now in its eighth month and only a month left in the academic year, all students in Gaza have lost this school year and a year of their lives amidst ongoing war and destruction caused by the occupation.

Every child in the world has the right to learn in a safe environment, to live with loved ones, and to live without occupation. The occupation has committed countless atrocities against us, disregarding international humanitarian law. The children of Gaza have grown up far too quickly, enduring unimaginable hardships and suffering in this war.

No compensation in life can replace the loss of our father. He was everything to us, and losing him has shattered our lives. The occupation has left me and my younger siblings without a father, without a home, and without means to support ourselves. We pray for an end to this war, and for the occupation to be held accountable for its crimes against Palestinians in Gaza during more than seven months of intense warfare.

If you have questions or concerns, please contact us at gazaunlocked@afsc.org.