أمي لن تراني أتخرج
التاريخ: 
17/10/2024
المؤلف: 

Since I was a child, my mother and I shared the dream of seeing me graduate from the English department at the Islamic University of Gaza. She was my greatest support, dedicating herself to helping me make that dream come true. When I was in high school, while she prepared my breakfast and packed my bag, she reviewed with me the key points for my exams. "Remember, Shahad, you can do it," she'd say, sending me off with a kiss and a piece of chocolate — a simple gesture, but one that filled me with confidence.

Her belief in me pushed me to work hard, and together we overcame every obstacle. When I passed my exams with a high average and was accepted into the English department, it felt like the first step toward realizing the dream we both held so dearly. My mother’s pride in me was overwhelming.

Throughout my university years, she remained my greatest supporter. She would go to the library to find books that could help me improve my English, always encouraging me to learn more. During exam seasons, when the workload was overwhelming, she stayed up with me, making coffee and snacks to keep me going through long nights of study. We shared every success, every achievement. I completed three years with honors, and with each year, we came closer to fulfilling our dream.

When I began my final year, my mother was so excited. She started planning my celebrations for my graduation, her eyes filled with joy. "Just one more year, Shahad, and we’ll make our dream come true," she’d say, smiling brightly. We were almost there.

But war came, and the Israeli Occupation destroyed everything we had built. In the early days of the war, they bombed my university — my second home, the place where I had grown and learned. Seeing it in ruins broke my heart. I cried. My future had been buried under the rubble. Yet my mother, ever hopeful, reassured me: "The war will end, Shahad. The university will rise again, and everything will be better," she promised, holding on to hope.

But that hope was short-lived. The months that followed were filled with bloodshed and destruction. The Israeli Occupation invaded our neighborhood, leaving nothing but devastation in its wake, and they took my mother from me. I watched helplessly as her life slipped away, her blood staining the ground. That image haunts me, and though I tried to forget, I couldn’t. My world feels empty without her. The dream we shared now seemed impossible. I had lost everything — my mother, my home, my university. What hurt the most was knowing she would never see me graduate. The future we had envisioned together vanished.

As Palestinians, we are taught to rise again, no matter how often we are torn down. On Aug. 17, 2024, my university administration offered online learning for those wanting to continue their studies, despite the war. Even in my grief, I knew I had to continue for her. So, I enrolled, enduring the constant bombing, the hunger, the lack of electricity, and the unreliable internet. It wasn’t easy, but the dream we shared kept me going.

I have now completed the first semester of my final year. In two months, I will graduate — without the stage walk or the celebration my mother had envisioned. But in my heart, I know she will be with me when I finish. The Israeli Occupation may have taken her life, but they will never take away the bond we shared, nor the dream that was ours. As I reach the end of this journey, I carry her love, her sacrifices, and her spirit with me. Though she is not here in person, her presence will guide me, and our dream will live on through everything I do.