I never imagined that I would live to tell a story like this.

After losing more than 500 members of my extended family in the war — all first-degree relatives — we knew deep inside that our turn might come. Still, we tried to hold on to small moments of happiness. We were together in our home. My children were playing, laughing, and eating around me. For a brief moment, life felt normal.

Then suddenly, everything disappeared.

Two missiles struck our home.

In a single moment, my world was destroyed. My daughter Lara was killed before my eyes. Her body was torn apart by the explosion. When I looked down near my feet, I saw her head without her body. No mother should ever witness something like that.

My son Kenan was beside me, bleeding and screaming. His hand was gone. My son Ahmad was buried under the rubble. My little son Yusuf was also trapped and injured beneath the destruction. The shock was so overwhelming that I did not even feel my own injuries. I was wounded in my eye and my leg, but I could not feel my pain because my heart was breaking while I watched my children suffer.

We tried to reach the hospital, but there was no transportation. The journey to medical help was terrifying and exhausting, but eventually we were rescued. At the hospital, I had to say goodbye to my daughter Lara as she was wrapped in her burial shroud. I was still in shock. We lost our home. We lost our sense of safety. We lost our love for life.

My only hope now is my children.

After surviving, my only dream became helping my sons heal, especially Kenan. He has no joint in his arm and has already endured many painful surgeries. My children still need more operations and long-term medical care. Today, we are without a home. Our family is scattered. My children have not been able to attend school for two and a half years because of their medical conditions. They miss learning. They miss being children.

I write these words while crying. My heart feels numb, yet filled with a grief so heavy that words cannot fully describe it. I miss my family. I miss the life we had. Many of my loved ones are now under the soil. My children are wounded. I am struggling every day just to stay strong for them.

I am asking you, from a mother’s broken heart, to please support us. Your help can give my children a chance to continue living, to receive medical care when emergencies happen, to find stable housing, and maybe one day return to school and rebuild their future.

Any support, prayer, or sharing of our story means more than words can express.