Alone Amid Genocide: Gaza’s Young Widows on the Frontlines of Grief

By Yasmin Abu Shammala

I became both mother and father the day my husband was killed.

I remember holding my son against my chest, trying to cool his burning fever. His small body shivered in my arms, and my tears fell freely as memories of Anas flooded back: how he would take over this simple task without hesitation, smoothing my worry with his calm presence. Now, I am alone in that role, navigating each small crisis by myself, with grief pressed deep in my chest. In my child’s…