In the early hours of Friday, Israeli warplanes struck the town of Abasan, east of Khan Yunis, killing eleven members of the al-Daghmah family in a single attack. Among the dead were parents, children, and grandparents—entire generations erased in an instant. The house belonged to Sheikh Ramadan al-Daghmah, a respected community figure.

What remains of the home is rubble and silence. Neighbours say the family had not left their house since the beginning of the war, believing it to be safer than the overcrowded shelters. That belief, like so many lives in Gaza, has now turned to dust.

Friday marked the 594th day of Israeli bombardment. Local reports confirm a surge in strikes on densely populated civilian areas, while international silence continues to echo louder than any condemnation. Gaza’s infrastructure lies in ruins, but it is the systematic erasure of families that wounds most deeply.

Figures released by local authorities paint a chilling picture: over 2,200 families have been wiped from the civil registry, their names lost with their lives. More than 5,100 families now consist of just one surviving member. These are not statistics—they are stories of love, laughter, and life abruptly cut short. And for the people of Gaza, they are a daily reality.