A ‘Slow Killing’ Ends: Finding My Father in the Dust of Khan Yunis
A harrowing account of a Gaza journalist discovering his father’s remains by chance, ending 814 days of agonizing, unresolved disappearance.
The call was a devastating shock, the kind that ends years of agonizing uncertainty with a single, brutal question: “Your father is missing; do you have any details that could help identify him?” For Gaza journalist Mohammed al-Haddad, those words marked the end of an 814-day search for his father, Ismail.
The memory of their final meeting remains vivid. On January 15, 2024, amidst heavy shelling near Nasser Hospital, Ismail visited his son one last time.
“The last time I saw my father was on January 15, just eight days before he went missing,” Mohammed told the Palestine Chronicle, adding: “He came to see me at Nasser Hospital in Khan Yunis and held my hand tightly, urging me to take good care of myself. He was overwhelmed with fear, as shells were falling heavily around our home near the hospital.”
Eight days later, Ismail disappeared. “My father disappeared on January 23, 2024. He was in the Al-Mawasi area near what is known as ‘Well 22’ with our family, but he could no longer bear the anxiety as the strikes intensified around our home.”
He set out, risking his life, to warn Mohammed’s brother and convince him to leave. He never arrived. Somewhere along that stretch of road, Ismail simply vanished.
“We lost contact with him and found ourselves trapped in a maze of uncertainty,” Mohammed told us, his heart heavy with the pain of loss.
“ There was no information, no signs, and no way to reach him,” he added.
The family began an exhausting search, contacting human rights organizations and the Red Cross, but the bombardment was at its peak, and they were told at the time that Ismail’s name was not listed anywhere.
“For 814 days, we stayed in constant contact with those organizations, holding on to the hope that he might be alive in an Israeli prison, but the response was always the same: his name was not there.”
Mohammed describes that period as a “slow killing” of the family, explaining that the lack of information led to deep anguish and overwhelming grief.
Despite this, they never stopped searching for even the smallest glimmer of hope.
“The family lived through extremely harsh moments,” Mohammed went on to say.
“I have brothers and sisters outside the Gaza Strip who would ask me every day: Is there any news about our father? Has anyone seen him in the prisons? With every prisoner exchange deal, we would rush to check the names and ask those who were released, hoping one of them had heard of him.”
Speaking about the moment that changed everything, Mohammed recalls one of the most painful experiences of his life: when his father’s remains were finally found.
The silence was finally broken by a stranger. In the western area near the Abu Alaa roundabout, a man was digging the ground to set up a tent when he uncovered a small Nokia phone, some clothes, and human bones. Though the phone was broken, the SIM card survived. When authorities placed it in another device, the first name that appeared was Mohammed’s brother.
Mohammed paused briefly, then continued, “When they called us and asked for a description of his clothes and shoes, I realized in that moment that we had found my father’s body.”
“My heart started pounding uncontrollably, and a terrifying certainty took hold of me. I went straight to the forensic department at Nasser Hospital, and when I saw the shoes and his personal belongings, I knew the remains were my father’s. I told them there was a modern phone and an ID card in the pocket of his jacket, and indeed, they found them there. They belonged to my father.”
Mohammed confirms that the waiting was unbearably exhausting. He says, “The questions kept circling in our minds every single day: Is he alive? Is he dead? Is he being tortured in captivity? Today, the questions have gone quiet, and the noise of the wait has faded, but the pain has settled in our hearts forever.”
“My father died while trying to save his son. The hero is gone, leaving behind a legacy of love and a story of grief that will be told for as long as we live,” he told us.
From that moment, a new story of grief began for Mohammed. “How will I tell my siblings abroad, who have been living on the hope of seeing him again?” he wondered.
“As journalists, we have tasted the bitterness of losing colleagues, but losing a father who was also our companion and friend is a wound that cannot be mended,” he concluded.
(The Palestine Chronicle)
– Shaimaa Eid is a Gaza-based writer. She contributed this article to the Palestine Chronicle.