By Yasmin Abu Shammala
I became both mother and father the day my husband was killed.
I remember holding my son against my chest, trying to cool his burning fever. His small body shivered in my arms, and my tears fell freely as memories…

By Yasmin Abu Shammala
I became both mother and father the day my husband was killed.
I remember holding my son against my chest, trying to cool his burning fever. His small body shivered in my arms, and my tears fell freely as memories…