My name is Ihab, the husband of Abeer and the father of four children.

I once dreamed of a safe home for my family — a place filled with warmth, stability, and love. I built our house with my own hands, stone by stone, hoping it would be a shelter that protected my children from every hardship.

But the war tore everything apart.

Our home was destroyed, our dreams collapsed, and the small income I relied on disappeared in an instant. For almost an entire year, my wife Abeer and our four children lived through the horrors of war without me by their side.

They endured relentless bombardment, constant displacement, hunger, fear, and long nights praying they would survive until morning.

My children witnessed things no child should ever see. They fled from place to place, carrying nothing but exhaustion, terror, and the hope of staying alive.

When survival became impossible, Abeer had no choice but to escape with our children to a neighboring country. But even there, life did not become easier.

Today, they live in an old, deteriorated house that sunlight doesn’t even reach — damp walls, poor conditions, and an environment unfit for children.

And despite everything they’ve been through, they have no residency, no legal rights, and no protection.

Abeer struggles alone, unable to provide the basic necessities our children need — food, healthcare, education, and even the simplest things every child deserves.

And I… I remain trapped in Gaza.

Living under constant bombing, hunger, destruction, and fear.

Every day, I wake wondering if I will survive another night — or if I will ever see my wife and children again.

My heart aches with a longing that words cannot describe, and I hold onto life only for the hope of being reunited with them.

We are a family torn apart:

a mother and four children living in harsh conditions far from home,

and a father trapped under fire, unable to protect the people he loves most.

And yet, despite everything, we still hold on to the only thing the war has not taken from us: hope.

Your support is not just a donation.

It is safety.

It is dignity.

It is a chance for my children to heal,

for my wife to live with basic security,

and for us to be reunited as a family that refuses to be broken.

From the depths of my heart… thank you for giving us hope when we have nothing else left to hold on to