This is my letter to a father in Gaza who I saw through my phone in the beginning of the genocide.
Uncle, I’m sorry I don’t know you. Uncle, I’m sorry I don’t know your name. You, whose life stopped in an instant as your body kept going. You, who poured your love into a body gone still in your arms. Uncle, I see the tether of your love, I see it tie you to your child. And I see the severed end where their love should be pouring back into you. I see the severed end from which nothing comes.
Uncle, you are my family. I see you here and you look like my mother. My mother who held her son in her arms and brushed his face clean of dirt as you brush the rubble from your child. My mother and you, together, tucking a pillow under their heads that they cannot feel.
Child, you are my brother. You must be watching our parents grieving. You must be trying to reach back through that severed tether and send your love. I hope that your father can feel your love, like my mother can feel my brothers. I hope they know that you appreciate the care with which they wrap you, cover you, and cradle you gently.
Uncle, your child is among the 16,000 slaughtered by the oppressors. My brother was alone, lost in an accident. Our community agonized over him, and had a big service. We danced together to a silly song he loved. I don’t know where you are uncle, but I hope you can dance. I hope that you are held in your community like we were.
I hope you have food, uncle.
I hope you have shelter, uncle.
I hope you are alive, uncle.
I am doing my best to keep you alive, uncle, in all the ways I know how.
But it is not enough, and I can do more. I think of you gently kissing your child’s face. I think of you and my mother as I move through the world. Grief holds the power to transform, and I am transformed by our grief. Your love has moved my world. Our love will move the world. This love that has nowhere to go anymore and yet cannot be stopped. They will feel our love shake the earth and change everything. My life, I devote to this, to you. Your child and my brother will see us from above, and will watch our love transform the world.
Me ke aloha,
Lana
Co-founder & Organizer, Kauai for Palestine
Kapaa, Hawaii
Lana Hunter was born and raised on Kauaʻi, in the illegally occupied Hawaiian Kingdom. She co-founded Kauaʻi for Palestine with friends, first to advocate for a ceasefire and now to combat the genocide and join the fight for the liberation and self-determination of Palestinians, Hawaiians, and indigenous peoples across the globe.