The feast was not a feast for the family of Jihad and Muhammad Abu Sultan this year, but rather a tragic goodness, and a scene of sadness that the hearts could not tolerate. Children were running joyful, exchanging laughter, and carrying in their eyes the uninterrupted sparkle of joy, they were in their most beautiful moments, wearing the new clothes of the feast, but the occupation missiles stole life before their joy was completed. A part of the funeral of their bodies, wrapped in white shrouds, rather than embracing the arms of their fathers, carrying on the shoulders, and their pure souls are bleeding to the sky.