That morning, everything was urging him not to go to work. He sat among his four daughters, laughing, dispelling the fears of one girl, and listening to the dreams of another. Basinma was playing with her little sister, and when the bombing would intensify, she would rush into his arms in fear.
He promised his wife that he would not be late, and instructed his eight-year-old daughter, Sama, to keep the bag of official papers that he had entrusted to her throughout the period of displacement. The bag also had information related to his work. She is, as her father would call her, his secretary.
Fadi had not finished work when he received news that a residential square in the Yarmouk area in Gaza had been targeted. He quickly headed to Al-Taj Tower (3), where his family had been displaced to only three days ago, only to find it completely wiped out and razed to the ground.
It was like a disturbing dream, more like a never-ending nightmare. It was and still is in Fadi’s memory, as he says. Dusty bodies searching for an opening among the rubble, and calling for those who have fallen under the rubble. Children flying from the tower to the street with broken and paralyzed bodies. The sound of phones ringing, trying to reach the Civil Defense, to save those who remained alive despite being under the rubble for hours. Mothers screaming, children crying, men inhabited by fear and anguish, and Fadi’s daughters on the second floor as the tower with its five floors collapsed on them.
The laughter of Fadi's four daughters, and his wife, whom he loved, were absent.
He does not accept anyone calling him “the only survivor” because he considers them to be the only ones who survived!