I am Kholoud Houshiya and I live in the village of Al Yamun near Jenin. Originally my family is from Haifa. I wasn’t able to experience childhood due to the occupation, which forcibly displaced my family to Jenin under oppression and humiliation.

Later, I married and I gave birth to my first child, whom I named Mohammed. I raised him with all my love and effort.

Mohammed was a young man who loved life dearly, and he loved me even more. He was both my son and my friend, thanks to our close bond.

Mohamad was 23 years old. He worked in Israel and helped his father.

On January 2, 2024 Mohamed took a picture of the Israeli army tearing down my neighbor’s house. The army thought otherwise and they shot him. Just because he was Palestinian.

I always dreamed of seeing my son as a groom, just like any mother. But now, I am left with him buried in my garden. I had hoped to see him, his wife, and his children in my house, but now, every day, I look at his grave from the window in my room.

My message to the world is this: Enough. Enough killing, enough injustice, enough destruction, enough oppression. Enough violence on both sides.

It is not easy for a mother to recount the story of her son’s death—the pain is indescribable. I cannot bear the loss of another child. This is why we must raise the voice of the mothers for a better future for all children and young generations – Palestinians and Israelis.

I am Hala Al-Bukhari, living in Jerusalem.

My daughter, my sister and her large family, children and grandchildren live in Gaza. Despite the distance, before the war, I used to communicate with them daily, checking on their health via video call.

On the morning of October 7th, my son told me to watch TV to see what was happening in southern Israel. From that day, fear has overwhelmed my heart.

Then came the morning of October 18th, bringing the harsh news: My sister’s house was bombed, and she, her husband, her children, and grandchildren were in the house—33 innocent lives lost in this horrific massacre. Since then, my fear for my daughter has grown. I have pleaded with human rights organizations, seeking any means to get her out of the hell of war and the horror of the massacres. Eventually we succeeded to get my daughter out of Gaza.

With every word I write, I struggle to express the extent of my pain. Our hearts bleed with grief for those we have lost and continue to lose. Our sorrow is profound, and our souls yearn for the peace we all dream of.

Let us all live in peace and build a better future for our children. War brings only destruction and ruin to everyone involved, whether Palestinian or Israeli. It is always the innocent people who suffer the most.

I am Liat Atzili from Kibbutz Nir Oz.

My partner, Aviv and I built a life and a family in Nir Oz. We were an inseparable part of this little community, which fulfilled our aspirations and needs. Mine as an educator, and Aviv’s as a farmer and an artist.

On October 7th, our kibbutz was attacked, conquered, and destroyed by Hamas. A quarter of the residents were either killed or kidnapped, including me. The time I spent as a hostage in Gaza was of complete despair, unending fear for my friends and family, and long days. I was nervous that I wouldn’t survive.

After 54 days in captivity, I was returned home. The following day, my family and I were told that Aviv was killed on October 7th. Aviv had hundreds of friends, he traveled and created, and made the most of every opportunity; he truly loved life.In his final year, Aviv fulfilled many dreams, the greatest being to share his art publicly. While managing the kibbutz’s agricultural garage, he painted on tractor parts and scrap metal, blending his love for metals and the Negev fields into his creations. Our children looked up to him and I feel like I had the greatest privilege to share my life with him.

I always believed that war is not our destiny, and that any conflict, including ours, can be solved. This war has proven to me beyond a doubt that we cannot continue fighting, that we have no right to impose the continued suffering of war on future generations on either side. I am ready today, more than ever, to do everything in my power so that our children can live here in peace and security.

I am Mazen from Bethlehem. Many of my family members live in Beit Lahiya, Gaza. They lived in a beautiful house and went on about their lives, despite the siege.

It all stopped on October 10, 2024, when, my uncle, his three sons, and his son-in-law were outside near the house. Israeli aircraft targeted them with bombardment and gunfire. My aunt managed to bring their bodies into the house. With trembling hands, she was forced to gather what remained of them, unable for over a week to lay her husband and three sons to rest.
I cannot believe that so many of my family are dead, and that I cannot go there to help them and cry with them.

The depth of pain in Gaza is beyond description and cannot be fathomed by the human mind. How much longer will this hatred on both sides continue? How much longer will we endure this nightmare? All the Palestinian people desire is a dignified life free from occupation—a fundamental right, just like that of any other people in the world.

The suffering will not cease until we collectively seek pathways to peace and understanding. Revenge will not forge a shared future; we must strive to find common ground and solidarity. Let us unite for a brighter future for the generations to come, and let us raise our voices for peace, so that together we may end this cycle of violence and finally live in safety and harmony.

My name is Liora Ailon, and I am from Kibbutz Kfar Aza. On Saturday, October 7th 2023 Hamas militants entered the kibbutz. My eldest daughter, my youngest son, and my two granddaughters were with me in the shelter. We were at the beginning of a day that would stretch over 35 hours.

It was 6:30 in the morning. Tal, my beloved son, a man of action, a man of purpose, a sensitive, devoted, and loving father, the commander of the standby squad of Kibbutz Kfar Aza, called up the members of his team. He left the house to open the armory, took a weapon, and ran to fight.

During the battle, he was injured but continued to lead his squad members until his last breath. In his death, Tal saved the lives of all the residents of Kibbutz Sa’ad, who remained unharmed.

Tal was a hardworking man; he loved the sea and sailing, loved people, and people trusted him. Tal’s children always knew they could rely on him, that his word was solid, that he would always be there to solve any problem and would never give up on anyone.

Tal used to say, “Never regret something that made you smile,” and since his death, we try to keep smiling despite the pain.

Before October 7th, I believed in the goodness of all people, and I refuse to stop believing in peace and reconciliation, even after the worst has happened to me and my family.

My name is Najla Al-Sharif, and I live in the Al-Arroub refugee camp in the West Bank. Originally from Gaza, I grew up there and completed my studies before marrying in 2000 and moving to the West Bank. For nearly 17 years, I endured the pain of being cut off from my family, unable to visit them because of restrictions imposed by the occupation. I missed countless moments—weddings, celebrations, and times of loss.

This past year has been marked by immense grief; I have lost dozens of family members—children, women, and the elderly. I came across the Parents Circle and decided to join, driven by a need to share our reality and reach the wider world. The support and encouragement of the PCFF’s leadership and members has given me the strength to tell my story.

But where do I start? With my cousin Ryan, who lost her husband, eldest son, and father-in-law to a drone strike as they returned from prayer? Or with my cousin Naima, whose entire family perished when a missile obliterated their home? Then there is my aunt, who lost three children, two daughters, five grandchildren, and their spouses in one merciless bombardment. Her grandson, five-year-old Muhammad, was missing for three days after the attack. The young men of the neighborhood searched tirelessly until they found him, lifeless and lying in his own blood.

My heart shattered further with the loss of my younger brother, Abdul Rahman. He had fled with my elderly parents—my father confined to a wheelchair—along with his young wife and their twin toddlers. They set up a makeshift tent in what was supposed to be a safe area. But while he was out gathering food and supplies for his children, he was killed, a victim of the relentless violence. He never returned.

These stories are only a glimpse of our suffering. Every individual carries a story, a collection of dreams and aspirations cut short. How long will we continue to recount tales of death and loss? How long will our narrative be defined by grief that tears at the heart?

The Parents Circle serves as a key pillar in building bridges of dialogue between our two peoples. What attracted me to become an active member was the involvement of our dear partners, the Israeli bereaved families who have lost their loved ones in the cycle of conflict. These families stand united in rejecting violence, occupation, and the policies that fuel it. Their courage in sharing their pain and their commitment to peace are a source of great inspiration for me.

I lift my voice and my prayers to the heavens, to God, the Lord of mercy and peace. I call upon the world to listen to our cries: let the hands of war, killing, and occupation be stayed. We yearn for an end to violence and a life of peace and security, not just for ourselves, but for our children, our families, and all of Palestine.

I share this story with sincerity and honesty, knowing it reflects only a fraction of my reality. My heart carries sorrow intertwined with hope. I envision a world filled with humanity, love, and sacrifice, and I pray for collective action to stop the ongoing violence in Gaza, throughout Palestine, and in Lebanon. Together, let us strive to end the occupation and build a life of dignity and safety for all.

Yuval’s son, Dror, and his daughter-in-law, Yonat, were killed in Kibbutz Beeri on Oct 7th. His three grandchildren were kidnapped and returned in the November 2023 hostage deal. His son’s body is still held hostage in Gaza. Today, Yuval and his wife are the primary caretakers of their grandchildren.

“Hamas did the worst of all possible things to me, and I still think, even more strongly, that the only way – which nobody talks about and which we keep moving further from – is to sit down and talk, to find a way to make peace. Peace is a practical, existential move, not a romantic move. My son and daughter-in-law were murdered in Beeri. And three of my grandchildren were kidnapped and returned with the deal. Bruised and two of them orphans from two parents. I, whose life has been almost completely destroyed, continue to wish for peace more and more strongly because it is the only way to survive here.”

I am a mother of five from Nablus. In 2014, I lost my husband, leaving me to raise our children amidst the instability of occupation. It has been a journey filled with fear, uncertainty, and unimaginable pain. I have lost many loved ones to this conflict, including my mother-in-law and her son, killed in the bombing of Jabalia in 2008—a tragedy that deeply affected my husband and eventually led to his death.

Eight years ago, I joined the Parents Circle, seeing it as a chance to voice our suffering and share our stories with others. But grief returned in 2024, taking my beloved aunt, who was like a mother to me. She had returned to Gaza full of hope after years of displacement, only to lose her life in this devastating conflict. My sister in Gaza lives with constant terror, having been displaced seven times since October 9, 2023. It feels unbearable, yet I cling to hope — hope for reconciliation, peace, and a better life for our children.

My commitment to peace has led me to serve as a new board member of the Parents Circle this year. I believe women are essential in peacebuilding, and I am determined to empower their voices in this ongoing struggle.

I share my life with my husband, Danny, and our three children, in Tel Aviv. On October 7, 2023, my parents, Belha and Yaakov, were killed in their home in Moshav Netiv Ha’Asara. The pain of losing them has been indescribable. It was a wake-up call for me—a reminder that we must pursue peace with unwavering determination and a commitment to equality, justice, and security for everyone.

For 25 years, I’ve worked in global high-tech, developing strategies and performance measures. As the new board president, I aim to contribute these skills to the Parents Circle. I believe we have the power to change lives through understanding, respect, and cooperation, even in the face of deep despair.