For Abu Hanin Ansio, this Ramadan is a painful reminder of all he has lost. Once a time of joy and family gatherings, the holy month now feels hollow. Fifteen members of his family were killed in an Israeli airstrike last March, leaving only him, his son Hamdi, and his daughter Hanin to mourn their absence.  

The tragedy struck on a Saturday morning. The family, already displaced by war, was preparing for another uncertain day. Hamdi had stepped out to fetch supplies. "When I left, they were all there. When I returned, nothing was left," he recalled. Their home was reduced to rubble, and Hamdi dug through the debris with trembling hands, finding only bodies. "My mother, my siblings, my nieces and nephews—all gone. Only my father, my sister, and I survived," he said, his voice breaking.  

This year, the three survivors gather for iftar, but the silence is deafening. "Ramadan was different with my mother," Hamdi shared. "She brought us together, filled the house with life. Now, everything is empty." Abu Hanin, who survived the attack, feels as though his heart was buried with his family. "I lost everything. How do I sit at the iftar table without them? How do I live without them?" he asked.  

Despite their grief, the Ansios carry on. Hamdi, his father, and his sister Hanin are piecing together what remains, determined to honor the memory of those they lost. "We live for them," Hamdi said. "We won’t let the occupation erase them the way it destroyed our home."  

Their story is one of resilience, a testament to the strength of those who endure unimaginable loss. "We live under war, under relentless attacks, but we refuse to disappear," Hamdi said. "The world must not look away."