My neighbor in the tent next to ours, Um Hussam, told me this morning: “Hussam went out to get flour... and when he brings a bag, I’ll give you 3 kilos for your children.” I smiled and thanked her, not knowing that this smile would soon turn into a tear. Since the morning… Hussam never returned. And by evening, the news arrived: Hussam is at Al-Shifa Hospital… martyred. What kind of night is this for Um Hussam? A night where she loses her eldest son — her pillar — who went out to feed his mother, his bedridden father, and his little sisters in the tent… and came back lifeless, carried on shoulders.