Three full years into the ongoing conflict in Gaza, thousands of Palestinian families are trapped in an agonizing limbo, still searching for any trace of loved ones who have vanished since the outbreak of hostilities. The disappearances have unfolded across every phase of the war: some went missing during Israeli ground incursions that leveled residential neighborhoods and displacement camps, others vanished while searching for life-saving humanitarian aid, checking on damaged family homes, or traveling near the heavily militarized Yellow Line. For these grieving families, the lack of any definitive answer has left them suspended between fragile hope and crippling grief, unable to move forward and unsure whether to hold out for a reunion or begin mourning their losses.
Official data underscores the scale of this human crisis. The Independent Commission for Human Rights records that more than 11,000 people across Gaza remain unaccounted for. This staggering number includes both those believed to be buried under the rubble of thousands of destroyed buildings, and those classified as suspected enforced disappearances. The Palestinian Centre for Missing and Forcibly Disappeared puts the number of enforced disappearance cases between 2,500 and 3,000, spanning from the start of the war through the ceasefire announced on 9 October 2025.
To date, the fate of these missing people remains entirely unknown. Israeli authorities have continued to withhold full lists of detainees held from the Gaza Strip, and have not provided identification for roughly 620 bodies that have been returned to Gaza. For the families left behind, this pervasive uncertainty is a daily torment: they carry the constant, unanswerable question of whether their relatives are still alive, detained by Israeli forces, buried under rubble, or among the growing number of unidentified dead.
Middle East Eye spoke with three families grappling with this three-year wait, to document their fears, their fading but persistent hope, and the heavy toll that unresolved loss has inflicted on every part of their lives.
Inside a cramped displacement tent on al-Nafaq Street in central Gaza City, 62-year-old Suhail al-Waheedi and his wife scroll through mobile phone photos of their son Nidal, a journalist who disappeared in the early hours of 7 October 2023. The photos are almost all they have left: the family’s home was destroyed in an Israeli bombing raid, and all of Nidal’s personal belongings were lost in the destruction.
“We have nothing to do but look at his pictures and wait,” Suhail told Middle East Eye. “For three years, all we have done is wait and hope for any news about our son.” Nidal had left the family home that morning with colleagues to cover developments at the Erez crossing in northern Gaza, following an attack on the Israeli checkpoint there. Just minutes after arriving at the site, all contact with Nidal was lost.
“Nidal is never far from our thoughts. We try to stay hopeful and keep waiting for some word from him,” Suhail said. But the family has grown deeply frustrated with international human rights organizations: Suhail says he reached out repeatedly to the Red Cross and other groups, but never received any information about Nidal’s fate. “None of the appeals we made to rights organisations helped us. In this war, sadly, there is no respect for human rights.”
For the al-Waheedi family, the pain extends far beyond the uncertainty itself. The loss of Nidal, who was the primary breadwinner and emotional anchor of the family, has left a gaping hole in their daily lives. “Nidal was not just our son. He was our friend, the backbone of our family and my righthand man. I miss him most now. I keep thinking about how much easier these difficult days would be if he were here,” Suhail said.
At the Palestine Stadium displacement camp in central Gaza, the Hajjaj family carries a similar burden of unresolved grief. Fifty-two-year-old Mona Hajjaj has lived in a tent since Israeli forces invaded northern Gaza, and every night before she sleeps, after taking medication for a heart condition brought on by grief, she and her two daughters sit together and share memories of Saeed, Mona’s husband, and Qasem, their son. Both men have been missing since 26 December 2023.
“My mother developed heart problems from the grief of losing my father and younger brother,” 35-year-old Nisreen Hajjaj told Middle East Eye. “Her eyesight also became weaker because she cried day and night, missing them and not knowing what had happened to them.”
The family was trapped in their home in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood of northern Gaza when Israeli forces launched their invasion on 20 December 2023. After surrounding the area and destroying nearby homes, Israeli troops raided the Hajjaj family home. All the women were forced to evacuate to southern Gaza, while Saeed and Qasem were detained.
“The last time we saw my father and brother was when they were naked, handcuffed, tortured and humiliated. Since then, we have known nothing about them – where they are or what condition they are in,” Nisreen said. Like the al-Waheedi family, the Hajjajs have contacted multiple human rights groups for help, but have received no answers.
“They are still part of our lives, but we do not know whether to mourn them or wait for them,” Nisreen said. “We have been left without the people we depended on. Sadly, support organisations do not deal with us because they are not listed as martyrs or prisoners.”
Mona Hajjaj refuses to declare the men dead without official confirmation, holding out for even the smallest glimmer of hope that they will return home. That commitment came at a steep cost: when Nisreen’s younger sister was offered a university scholarship that required a death certificate for Qasem, the family turned down the opportunity rather than accept his death.
The uncertainty has stolen future moments the family once looked forward to. When Qasem was detained, his wife was nine months pregnant, and Saeed had long been waiting to meet his first grandchild. By the time the baby was born, Saeed was gone. “What hurts us most is when his children ask: Where is our father? Why can’t we see him anymore? When will he come back?” Nisreen said.
In the al-Zahra area south of Gaza City, 48-year-old Alaa Abu Shaaban carries on the search for his younger brother Mohammad, who has been missing since 7 October 2023. Alaa regularly posts Mohammad’s photo to a WhatsApp group for families of missing Gazans, asking any members if they have seen or heard news of his brother.
Alaa recalled the day Mohammad disappeared: when Israeli airstrikes began hitting Gaza on 7 October 2023, Alaa traveled to eastern Deir al-Balah to evacuate Mohammad’s wife and children to the safer family home further from the Israeli-Gaza border. Mohammad chose to stay behind to guard their empty house. “He told me things would end soon, and there was no point leaving the house empty,” Alaa said. “We spoke that afternoon and tried to convince him to leave. He said he would leave and come. That was the last time we spoke before we lost contact with him.”
Two months after the disappearance, a relative received a text message from Mohammad’s phone: it said he was in the Kissufim area, inside Israeli territory adjacent to Deir al-Balah, and asked the family to come retrieve him. But the area was too heavily militarized and dangerous for the family to reach, and they were unable to get to him. No contact has been made since.
“For three years, we have not known what happened to my brother, how he disappeared, where he is or whether he is alive,” Alaa said. “Some released prisoners told us they had heard his name in Ofer prison. We contacted all the rights organisations, but received neither confirmation nor denial. We have lived through this painful wait all this time. We now look after his family. But his eldest son was killed while waiting for aid.”
The constant uncertainty has gravely harmed the health of Alaa’s elderly parents, who still cling to the hope that Mohammad will return. “My father and family believe Mohammad will come back one day. They hold on to that hope despite the pain. But not knowing anything about him leaves them overwhelmed with anxiety and grief,” he said.
Today, Alaa waits for every newly released detainee, pulling out Mohammad’s photo to ask if they have seen him or heard his name inside Israeli prisons. “Many nights, I fall asleep in tears because I miss my brother and the support he gave me. It also breaks my heart that his eldest son was killed and we could not protect him while his father was gone,” he said.