With each Israeli assault on Gaza,  the number of dead and injured Palestinians is given, even if only an approximate count is possible. Less attention is given to the thousands of widows who must care for their children alone and during the precarity of living in a genocide zone.

“Happiness completely vanished when I lost my husband,” my 26-year-old cousin, Areej Al-Faran, recalled as she wept.

Driving a taxi was the only work Abdullah Al-Faran, 28, could find since Israel’s devastating assault began in October. Abdullah was driving his taxi on Dec. 2, 2023.

The immediate family had moved for safety from their home and were sheltering in Areej’s family home in the Shawa area. That morning, before going to his family’s home in Shuja’iyya to retrieve some personal items, Abdullah asked Areej if she needed anything from the house. He gazed at his three children before walking out the front door. “Take good care of them,” he said to Areej. “I will get a few things from the house and come right back.” He bought some chocolates nearby, a special treat he planned to give his children upon his return, and drove off.

An hour later, an explosion shook the area. Areej was terrified. When she couldn’t reach her husband on the phone, she hoped it was due to an unreliable phone signal. She went outside and saw people running through the streets crying; several had been injured by shrapnel. Areej asked a woman where the explosion had happened. The woman told her that Abu Al-Azam Street had been destroyed by an aerial attack. Abu Al-Azam Street was where her husband’s family lived, where he was born and grew up, the home her husband was going to.

The Gaza Ministry of Health reported that an estimated 250 Palestinians were killed in the strike.

Areej’s Uncle Mohammed went to the house to search for Abdullah’s remains. He found the three-story building completely destroyed. Dismembered bodies and severed limbs were scattered throughout the wreckage.

In the strike that killed Abdullah, Areej also lost most of her in-laws. There was no rescue equipment available to retrieve them from the rubble of their home. To date the Al-Faran family has not been recovered and buried.

With the loss of her husband, Areej, a homemaker, became the only provider for their three children: Naya, 5; Maher, 4; and Watan, 2. With extremely inflated prices for all essentials and no income, Areej and her children have to rely on UNRWA assistance to survive, like most widowed mothers in Gaza today.

And she must find a way to respond to her children’s questions about when their father will return home. They ask about him and reflect on the happy times when they lived together. This makes it hard for Areej to stay resilient. The burden of sorrow and concern weighs on her constantly.

Areej’s sister attempts to console her, but Areej would rather be left alone. Her sister tells me, “She just wants to cry. She’s always afraid, especially if someone brings up Abdullah.”

The challenge of securing food when Israel is using starvation as a method of warfare, coupled with soaring prices and lack of income to meet her family’s needs, is unbearable. Areej tries to enroll her children in organizations that can meet their essential needs. To date, she has been unable to find assistance for food, and like so many widows she is in desperate need.

On April 16, 2024, United Nations Women reported that more than 3,000 women in Gaza had been widowed since October 2023. The majority face enormous challenges, because often their own families and in-laws have also been killed. They must provide financially for their children, and care for them while managing their own grief, insecurity and displacement.

“What deeply saddens me,” Areej says, “is when my children ask about their father and question why he is no longer with us.”

Because Israeli attacks on Gaza are ongoing, it is not possible to arrive at verifiable numbers for orphans. An article published in Le Monde in July 2024 cited Palestinian civil society estimates of 15,000–25,000 Gazan children who have lost one or both parents. The same article cited a February UNICEF report that at least 17,000 children had been separated from their parents due to the parent’s death, illness or detention.

Since her father’s death, Naya has been having nightmares. She constantly wets her bed. Upon hearing an explosion, Naya clings to her mother and asks, “Are we going to die as baba did, Mama?” Areej has not been able to explain Abdullah’s death to her youngest children. She says that Maher often tells her, “When Daddy comes back, tell him to get this for me,” or “Tell Daddy I want that.”

Most children suffer psychological traumas due to the constant bombardment, the sight of death and injuries all around them, food shortages and starvation. The psychological impact of the conflict on Palestinian children is immense, and includes bedwetting, nightmares, severe anxiety, despair, increased hostility and irritability, chronic sadness and traumatic stress. Areej told We Are Not Numbers that, after her husband’s death, her children started bedwetting, screaming, and becoming more terrified during bombings. They also wake up several times during the night.

Established in December 1949 to provide humanitarian security to Palestinians, UNRWA, which widows like Areej rely on, will soon be forced to stop operating because of an Israeli law that was passed at the end of October to ban the agency. The legislation is set to come into effect 90 days after it was passed. This will have dire consequences for Palestinian widows and orphans, who rely on UNRWA for essential humanitarian services including food and education.

This article is co-published with Washington Report on Middle East Affairs.