Jana and Muhammad Musa Sa'id Salem

I don't know where to begin, but I will start with my eldest daughter, my firstborn, Jana. She was my paradise, my blessing, my beloved 14-year-old. She was an intelligent and beautiful child, in heart and soul, and had already memorized the Surah Al-Baqara and half of the Surah Al Imran, intending to memorize the entire Quran. She was first in her school. She dreamed of becoming a doctor; it was truly her wish. Jana is gone, and all my dreams went with her. She is gone, and my soul went with her. She was my companion and my comfort in life. The occupation attacked us with its missiles and belts of fire, annihilating more than a square kilometer in a single moment, in a single second. It annihilated people and stone, and annihilated whoever was left. My child told me before she was martyred, "He who dies is saved, and he who is saved, dies." I didn't know it was a message from her to me, that she would be saved and leave me in this fleeting world. Jana did not go alone. My son, my little one, my love, my pampered Muhammad, who was 10 years old, also left. My child Muhammad, my little son, his mother's soul, her darling and her love. He was affectionate toward me despite his young age. One day he told me, "Mama, I'm afraid to die alone, Mama." I told him, "I won't leave you alone, my life."