Ramadan Revolved Around My Grandma. Bombs Took Her House. Famine Took Her Life.

"For my family, that place was always my grandma's house. Now everything feels different. Ramadan still arrives, but something essential is missing. This is the first Ramadan we've observed without my grandmother, Aisha Dmeida; the first Ramadan when we do not go to her house; and the first Ramadan when we do not hear her kind voice minutes before the evening Maghrib prayer, asking, 'Did you prepare the dates?'"

"In our family, Ramadan was never just a month on the calendar. It revolved around my grandmother. Every year, we gathered at her home before sunset. But this year, we gathered without her. During the 11-day war in May 2021, my grandmother's house was bombed. After that, she moved in with us for about a year and a half."

"Sharing daily life under one roof deepened our relationship in ways I had not expected. I came to know her habits and routines: the careful way she folded clothes, the order in which she arranged her belongings. We spent an entire Ramadan together, preparing iftar side by side, breaking our fast together, and waking at the same time for suhoor, the pre-dawn meal eaten before the daily fast of Ramadan begins."

For decades, Ramadan in Gaza held consistent family traditions, with the author's grandmother Aisha Dmeida serving as the central figure around which celebrations revolved. Her home was the gathering place where family members would break their daily fast together, sharing meals and spiritual moments. After her house was bombed in May 2021, the grandmother lived with the author's family for eighteen months, deepening their bond through daily routines and shared Ramadan preparations. When she moved to a nearby house in December 2022, family traditions continued unchanged. However, the grandmother died during a period of severe famine when medicine and food became scarce. The current Ramadan marks the first without her presence, her voice, and her home as the family gathering place, leaving a profound void in their cherished observance.

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