In the afternoon of the 16th of January 2009, Ahmad Abu `Ita went out in the accompany if his little sister Malak and his aunt Zakiyyah after they heard a sound of explosion that shook the entire area. They went out to see the aftermath of the explosion, but did not find anything, so they turned backwards to go home again. Their steps were heavy and they could not come home. They lost their lives when an Israeli reconnaissance warplane targeted them with missiles and the shrapnel pierced the bodies of the victims.

A piece of shrapnel settled down in the heart of little Malak causing her to die at once. As for Ahmad, he took his last breath in the lab of his mother. He looked at her sad face and exchanged a smile of content then he announced his death. In turn, the mother closed his eyes and opened her eyes for the separation tears.

Hours and years pass quickly to the last moments of departure; some people forget it for a while, but they recall them fast. Those words have a different impact not only on the ears, but also on the hearts, sometimes with sadness and sometimes with patience, however, the last moments of Ahmad were wrapped by silence. His mother says: "On the day of his martyrdom, he did not speak a word, but he looked at us for a long time then he smiled at us. His mother was sure of his death and those looks were the last farewell looks. Whenever she yearned for him, she recalled to memory the scene of closing his eyes and that helped her a lot to observe patience.

Ahmad was the elder of his siblings, and perhaps he was also the dearest in the hearts of those who knew him because of his sweet talks, his politeness, and his obedience to all. His pain was removed by a satisfaction look from a mother or by a supplication for success from a needy whom he helped or served; a service that is no more than a duty imposed by neighbors’ rights or people’s right in Gaza Strip.