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Gaza Mother Finds Son After Thinking He'd Been Killed In Air Strike

Gaza Mother Finds Son After Thinking He'd Been Killed In Air Strike

GAZA — A dramatic video has emerged that captures — in a very different way — the horror of Gaza parents facing the death of their children in the ongoing assault by the Israeli military.

In this video, (SEE BELOW) posted late Wednesday by al-Quds news in Jerusalem, a Gazan mother finds her young son, alive and well, in a local clinic after she had been informed earlier that the boy had been killed in Israeli air strikes.
Medics try to calm the shocked mother as she incredulously hugs and then examines her son's entire body for wounds. The young boy, sobbing softly and looking rather shocked, is tugged in the midst of doctors and nurses and scattered family members.
The mother breaks down in tears, wailing her grief and surprise at this sudden moment of luck in the midst of death; the boy and his aunt promise her that he really is okay.
A male family member appears and urges the mother to try to calm down: "You are scaring the boy; this isn't the time for it." But she can't control herself and collapses into her son's lap.

More than 132 children have died since the start of Israel's military offensive against Hamas in Gaza, on July 8. The Palestinian death toll passed 700 on Thursday, while Israel has lost 32 soldiers since the beginning of the conflict.

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Society

Parenthood And The Pressure Of Always Having To Be Doing Better

As a father myself, I'm now better able to understand the pressures my own dad faced. It's helped me face my own internal demands to constantly be more productive and do better.

Photo of a father with a son on his shoulders

Father and son in the streets of Madrid, Spain

Ignacio Pereyra*

-Essay-

When I was a child — I must have been around eight or so — whenever we headed with my mom and grandma to my aunt's country house in Don Torcuato, outside of Buenos Aires, there was the joy of summer plans. Spending the day outdoors, playing soccer in the field, being in the swimming pool and eating delicious food.

But when I focus on the moment, something like a painful thorn appears in the background: from the back window of the car I see my dad standing on the sidewalk waving us goodbye. Sometimes he would stay at home. “I have to work” was the line he used.

Maybe one of my older siblings would also stay behind with him, but I'm sure there were no children left around because we were all enthusiastic about going to my aunt’s. For a long time in his life, for my old man, those summer days must have been the closest he came to being alone, in silence (which he liked so much) and in calm, considering that he was the father of seven. But I can only see this and say it out loud today.

Over the years, the scene repeated itself: the destination changed — it could be a birthday or a family reunion. The thorn was no longer invisible but began to be uncomfortable as, being older, my interpretation of the events changed. When words were absent, I started to guess what might be happening — and we know how random guessing can be.

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