Dear Habibi,
Late one night in the month of December 2024, I see you on the screen of my phone, lying in a hospital bed after an operation to remove your leg. You are so small, only one year old. So sweet. So vulnerable. You are in shock. One arm in a bandage, the other raised in a show of uncertainty and resignation. There is a kind doctor, Dr Tamir, stroking your forehead, calming you down, watching over you, sitting with you while you lay there, quiet and not moving, eyes open staring into space.
My heart ached for you when I read you were now an orphan. You will never again know the warmth of your mother’s arms. She can no longer shield you from the horrors of life in Gaza. I am sure she tried, I am sure she did everything she could to protect you from this exact moment. But the evils of occupation and repression are great, too great for your beautiful mother. I felt the injustice and the cruelty of the world and what it did to you. It took your mother, father, family, home, security, and future. I was ashamed of this world, to be part of the colonialist war machine that put you in that hospital bed. I am so sorry I wasn’t able to prevent this. I am sorry you are now without your precious leg, and that the world has done nothing to help you. I want to hold you, to take over from the kind doctor and never let you go. I want to shield you from the pain and loss and let you know you are safe, you are loved, you are a blessed child of the universe. I want so much to protect you from any more heartache.
I have thought about you so often these last few months, and today I wonder for the millionth time if you are still alive. I hope that someone, somewhere is holding you, stroking your forehead and keeping you safe.
With love and sorrow and hope,
Jackie