On Sunday alone, at least 18 Palestinians died of hunger in Gaza, as Israel continues to enforce a systematic starvation policy on the territory’s 2 million residents.

I have been haunted by the thought: What goes through someone’s mind as they take their final breaths because of starvation?

Every time I try to distract myself, a notification pops up on my screen with another name, another death by starvation, pulling me back into this relentless loop. What did they think of at the very end?

I have an idea of what runs through a person’s mind as they are about to be killed in an air strike. Most people in Gaza do. We have had those thoughts so often that they are embedded in our nervous system; they will never fully leave, even decades after this genocide ends.

I also understand the type of thoughts that consume people dying due to the lack of medical care. I lived that moment with someone very close to me. I looked into their eyes as they took their final breaths. I could almost hear their thoughts.

But starvation is different. I picture someone lying on a bed, dying in total silence—a silence so powerful it can kill bones, muscles, flesh, and blood. A silence stronger than the 125,000 tonnes of explosives that have been dropped on Gaza over the past 21 months. A silence that keeps borders sealed and food blocked from entry.

What do they feel, knowing that they have survived thousands of air strikes, artillery shells, field executions, epidemics, and the collapse of the health system, only to die because they could not get the bare minimum calories a human needs to stay alive?

Do they feel betrayed by humanity?

Or do they just think about food, craving it? Do they picture themselves around a large table, surrounded by family, steam rising from hot pots, laughter in the air, the clinking of spoons and forks on glass plates?

Does their failing mind try to recall the last meal they had? Does it start tricking them into smelling a favorite dish?

Perhaps food is the last thing they think of in that moment. Maybe, for the first time in months, they feel full—not in their stomach, but in their soul. Perhaps there is a sense of completion; they can no longer lose parts of themselves, pieces of their dignity, as they queue for a hot meal or run through a hail of........

© Common Dreams