Help Omar’s Family Survive in Gaza

My name is Mohammad. I'm a father to two little boys — Omar and Asser — and a husband to the strongest woman I know. We used to live a simple life in Gaza with my elderly father. I had a small home, a car, and a small grocery shop that helped me provide for my family. We didn’t have much, but we had peace. We had each other.

Everything changed in a single moment.

I still hear the sound of that first airstrike. We ran with only the clothes on our backs. My home? Gone. My father's home? Rubble. My car? Burned. My shop? Leveled to the ground. But the worst pain of all — I lost my brother-in-law in the bombing. He was like a brother to me.

We became displaced overnight.

We made it to a shelter in Rafah, hoping for safety. Instead, we found overcrowded rooms, no privacy, barely any clean water or food, and no medicine. My father is sick and needs his daily medications. I search for them every day — in pharmacies, shelters, even with strangers — and still come back empty-handed. I watch him grow weaker, and I can do nothing.

My baby Asser isn’t even two years old. He needs milk and diapers — things that have become luxuries here. Omar keeps asking me, "Daddy, when are we going back home?" I have no answer. Our home no longer exists.

Then came the tents.

Now we live in the open. The sun scorches us by day, and the cold bites at night. Everything is so expensive — milk, bread, medicine. I’ve lost everything: my home, my job, my car, my shop. Even my children’s laughter has changed — replaced by fear and silence.

And yet… I’m still standing.

Not because I’m strong — but because I have no choice. I need to stay standing for my family. I just want my father to live with dignity. I want my children to sleep without crying from hunger. I want my wife to rest, just for one night.

We are not numbers. We are human. We deserve to live.

Please help Omar’s family survive in Gaza.