For many in Gaza, Eid is a time of joy and family celebration. Yet for journalists like Mahmoud Abu Hassira, this year's festivities are overshadowed by profound grief. Two years ago, a missile took the lives of his two children, Ziad and Ghada, along with their mother. As he navigates this Eid without them, Mahmoud recalls the moments filled with laughter and love that are now replaced by an aching void.

“Ziad was not just my son; he was my hope for the future,” Mahmoud reflects. “He won’t be here for prayers, or to visit relatives. The absence is a wound that cannot heal.” The memories of Eid prayers and family gatherings haunt him as he grapples with the reality of spending the holiday alone.

Similarly, journalist Mahmoud Haniya shares his sorrow. He has endured the pain of losing his son Obaida and his partner, Du’aa, to the ravages of war. “Each Eid we spent together was unique,” he recalls, filled with nostalgia for the joy they shared. “Now, I miss our walks and the simple happiness that family brought me.” The loss of their laughter and companionship leaves him feeling adrift.

Sami Barhoum’s experience of Eid is marked by separation. With his family abroad for medical treatment, he faces the holiday in isolation. “I’ve lost the spirit of Eid,” he laments, reflecting on the traditions that have been stripped away by conflict. The absence of shared rituals weighs heavily on him, a constant reminder of what has been taken.

For these journalists, the celebration of Eid has transformed into a poignant reminder of loss. The occupation has not only taken their loved ones but has also severed the bonds that bring joy and belonging. Despite their grief, they remain resolute, vowing to continue their work and keep the memory of their families alive. In a land marred by conflict, their stories echo the resilience of a people enduring unimaginable heartache.