On May 15, 1948, my grandfather Saeed was only six years old when Zionist militia attacked his village in Belshba, forcing his family to flee. His mother took him with her as they escaped the horror of explosions and shelling. The nearest refuge is Gaza City. They arrive at a land that expects to stay in the makeshift tent for a few days, confirming that they will soon return to their homeland and fertile.

They had no idea at the time that their temporary accommodation would extend to decades - the tent would become a permanent concrete shelter. The house keys they clung tightly would rust and become symbols of return rights, which were calculated by generations (77 years).

Nakba lived in the past for most of my life, and it was a tragedy I inherited through my grandfather’s story. But I've been living in Gaza since 2023 - this time in real time, under the lens of a smartphone camera and a TV screen. The militia that once expelled my grandfather had become a state with one of the most advanced armies in the world, wielding deadly weapons against the besieged civilian population, demanding only freedom and dignity.

In October 2023, Israel launched a forced displacement campaign, which made my grandfather endure everything. Residents in northern Gaza were ordered to evacuate the south - only the areas were blown up. The whole family walked barefoot for hours, carrying just everything they had. People find themselves in tents again - this time not made of plastic, but with debris, cloth and anything that can protect them from the harsh sun or cold. We face death without bullets. Newborns die from cold and dehydration. The world's disease is almost eliminated like polio, and malaria recovers due to unsanitary conditions. Israel tightened its lockdown to prevent food, medicine and basic necessities from entering. According to the World Food Program, 96% of Gaza's population suffers from food shortages, ranging from moderate to catastrophic. The World Health Organization has confirmed that malnutrition among children under five has died at least and warned that this will increase.

Now we live like grandparents: no electricity, no running water, cooking in wood or clay oven. The smoke filled the air and the mother's lungs were blocked while the children were sleeping on an empty stomach. Donkey carts replace cars - fuel shortages are destroyed or useless. This profession has deprived us of our land, but also of the basic knowledge of life.

I witnessed the first Nakba's grandfather did not survive the second. He died in October after a year of suffering, hunger and absence of medical services. For months, he has weighed half. He used to be a proud athlete - used to be skin and bones. During his last few days he was bedridden, silently enduring strokes and pains, without medication, without proper food, and without relief. I still remember our last hug on October 11th. This is a silent farewell. One's tears slid down the cheek of a man who witnessed too many wars and buried too many dreams. What can tears say: It's time. I asked myself: If there was no war, would he survive? Can his last few months be filled with care instead of hunger?

As if that wasn't enough, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has publicly called for two million Palestinians to be displaced from Canada. His remarks only confirm the decades-old Israeli plan, and are now fully supported by the United States. Such plans are concealed in the language of "voluntary immigration", but the reality is far from voluntary. Life in Gaza has become impossible.

As of July 1, 85% of Gaza's sanitation facilities were destroyed or damaged, including 32 of 36 hospitals, according to the United Nations Office for Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. The education sector is equally damaged: UNICEF reports that 80% of schools and universities in Gaza are no longer valid, with at least 94 scholars killed.

The attacks even extended to the Arctic states, which have supported the UN agencies of Palestinian refugees since the original Nakba. The Israeli parliament banned its operations in the Palestinian territory, while also bombing food warehouses and putting pressure on donor countries to cut funds. Why? Because the existence of UNRW reminds the world of the legal right to return to refugees. Israel wants to remove memory (and all physical traces).

The entire refugee camp is a symbol of rights and is blown away by bombs. Camps like Jabalia and Shati in the north and Khan Younis and Rafah in the south have been turned into mass graves. These camps were homes of generations of dreams and contempt, and now they are only bones of those who refuse to leave.

So I asked again: Will my grandfather’s dream come true when he returns to his land? Or will history continue to rotate its cruel wheels and spin out new chapters of exile and suffering? Will I tell my own children one day about our mid-nakba and our dreams of returning?

The views expressed in this article are the author's own views and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Al Jazeera.