Gaza, ese funeral popular que tuvo que esperar 986 días

In Gaza, a funeral took place on Monday for 112 individuals who were killed nearly three years ago during an Israeli air strike on a residential complex in the Al-Sabra neighborhood. The event marked the largest funeral in modern Palestinian history for a single family, with the deceased being buried under their national flag amid the ruins of their former homes. The attack occurred on November 22, 2023, just hours before a ceasefire was announced, when Israeli aircraft struck the area, reducing parts of the complex to rubble. The strike targeted the homes of two families, the Abu Sharia and Al-Hasayna, who had been moving between houses in search of safety. Hundreds of residents sought shelter in a basement, which became a death trap when nine missiles hit the location. The attack resulted in the deaths of 308 people, including 44 children, 37 women, and more than ten individuals with disabilities. Among the victims were engineers, builders, merchants, parents, children, and grandparents, many of whom vanished overnight. Some bodies were recovered during previous ceasefires, but 153 remained buried beneath the debris. This summer, rescuers worked for 17 days using minimal heavy equipment to recover 112 of these bodies. The remaining 153 have yet to be found. Family members described how some bodies were vaporized by the force and heat of the missiles, while others were mixed with concrete, making it impossible to separate flesh, bones, and rubble. The funeral took place among the ruins where the families once lived. The remains were wrapped in Palestinian flags and transported with flowers, while attendees scattered roses over the shrouds. Gaza attempted to restore tenderness and dignity to those denied even a grave for almost three years. Among the attendees was a 13-year-old survivor who said, “They killed my father. I feel destroyed because he’s not here anymore to share everything with me. I would have wanted to die with him.” What does finding peace mean for a child who wished to be buried beside his father? This funeral is not solely a remembrance of the past. In July 2026, during the tenth month of the ceasefire, the Israeli military killed at least 13 children, one every two days. Most died when their homes were directly targeted while they slept. In that month alone, hundreds more were injured, displaced, or lost their homes. For 986 days, the victims of Al-Sabra disappeared from newspaper headlines, though never from the hearts of their families. Their relatives knew where they were. What they lacked were the means, access, and fundamental right to retrieve their loved ones. Approximately 8,000 Palestinians could still lie beneath the rubble of Gaza, while the excavators, bulldozers, and cranes needed to reach them remain unavailable. The 112 shrouds did not create this story. They exposed how long it has been allowed for that crime to go unresolved. Ask who killed them. Question why Gaza was denied the means to recover them. Remember that behind each concrete tomb lies a family still waiting. Mahmoud Darwish wrote: “We live close to our lives, yet we do not live.” In Gaza, even death remains suspended: no body, no grave, no definitive farewell. This was not merely a funeral. It was an entire nation burying its children, while others continued to wait beneath the same earth.