Jawahr Al-Balawi

“My dad, Jawhar Al-Balawi, 47 years old, was a loving father to us—four daughters, two sons—and a grandfather to two grandchildren. From the start of the war, my dad made sure to evacuate us to the south, and we were displaced there. One day, he went to the north to help some relatives, but unfortunately, he couldn’t return because the road was blocked at that time, separating the north from the south.”

“His absence wore us down, but despite everything, he never left us. Every day, he called to check on us and ask about every little detail, as if he were still with us. A year and three months passed, and we never felt like he was far away. He was always close to us in every way.”

“I used to wait for his call every morning at 7, but on January 4, the call didn’t come. Instead, we got the news about his injury. My dad, as he did every morning, was lighting a fire to heat the water, take a shower, and prepare something to eat. That day, he was sitting at the entrance of our home when Israeli warplanes bombed the area. My dad suffered fractures in his legs and chest, but at the hospital, due to the overwhelming pressure, his condition wasn’t properly diagnosed. His injuries worsened, and he eventually succumbed to them.”

“The news of his death felt like a nightmare. My beloved dad, Jawhar Al-Balawi, wasn’t just a number—he is a martyr and a cherished soul. He left us without the chance to bid him farewell or see him. He was gone so quickly.”

A message was received from his daughter Dana Al-Balawi. In the photos Jawahr appears with his grandchild.