Hamas killed my parents My family want peace, not revenge

Igrew up in the south of Israel with my parents and four siblings in a small village called Netiv Haasara, which is one of the closest Israeli villages to the Gaza Strip. 

- Magen Inon

What I remember most vividly about my childhood is the scenery - beautiful sand dunes overlooking the Mediterranean. As a teenager, I would run for an hour to the beach, and my father would come and pick me up afterwards in his truck.

Every summer, including the last, my family and I travelled from London to spend time with my parents in the village. They enjoyed entire happy days with my three small children, getting to know our little 10-month-old boy, the youngest of their 11 grandchildren.

We were so happy together playing card games, swimming in the sea, doing artwork, working in the garden. It is hard to think of this place as a war zone, as the tragedy of the Hamas attack unfolds daily. Both my parents - my beloved wonderful parents, Yakov and Bilha Inon - are now dead.

I first started hearing news about the Hamas attacks when WhatsApp groups with my family and friends from the area started buzzing. My siblings and I received a short message from my parents saying that they could hear gunshots.

They said they were safe inside the house and had locked the doors.

This was the last time we heard from them. At the time, we weren't scared because, as unimaginable as it is, the sound of gunshots and rockets could often be heard in their home, coming from the other side of the border. It wasn't clear how close it was this time.