6:08 PM @sara__alsaqqa Today, all I can do is acknowledge the weight of our loss. With the news of a ceasefire approaching, my mind is overwhelmed. Thoughts are battling each other inside my head, and my hands are trembling uncontrollably. I feel as though my legs may give way beneath me.
I keep thinking about the journey back. Despite having traveled that road countless times over the past 15 months, I know this will be the hardest one. It’s hard to even imagine what awaits; the postponed tears, the grief we’ve held in, the breakdowns we’ve been holding back. Finally, we will bury the loved ones who still lie beneath the rubble, and we will search for the missing family and friends in the piles of bodies, in the names of the disappeared, in the faces of everyone we meet.
This is the moment I’ve been dreaming of, dreading, for months. And yet, even now, I feel so unprepared to see what remains of my home, of everything we once had. It’s as if no amount of time can ready me for this final, heart-wrenching reality. 
