Modest, handmade decorations throughout our tent camp created a joyous atmosphere and delivered the holiday experience to my young son.

Before, Ramadan was lovely in all its details. Now, it is layered in sadness.

For the fourth time, the Eid holidays came and went in Gaza without the traditional rituals, feasting, and celebrations.

This year the celebration came with no feast, no laughter, no visits to relatives, and the loss of a loved one who made it special.

Gazans continue to support one another, sharing what little they have despite their own grief and financial hardships.

Within hours of enjoying freshly baked ka’ak and maamoul, a child dies when Israel breaks the ceasefire.

We welcome the festival with sadness, but also with open hearts.

I saw a hunger not only for food to supply the Iftar meal, but also for safety, for peace, for an end to this nightmare.

Through small acts of creativity, two friends demonstrate how the people of Gaza continue living life amid unimaginable loss.

After nearly 500 days of war, Gaza welcomed Ramadan in peace — a peace soon broken. For what?

Two years in a row, we have struggled to enjoy the holy month despite displacement, scarcity, and disrupted traditions.

Instead we have a month of absence, of remembering voices that will never speak again and faces that will never smile again.