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“When it seemed that the despair was endless, your support gave us strength and wings”

“When it seemed that the despair was endless, your support gave us strength and wings”

They lived on the very border with Russia, and the war literally burst into their home at dawn on February 24, 2022. Read about the long and painful journey “from home to home,” about dreams, regrets, and hopes, and how the support from the Polish-Ukrainian project “Family to Family” changed their lives and gave them hope – in the story of a family from Kharkiv region.

“Mom, there are tanks coming towards you on the Belgorod highway...”

Daryna is trying on her new shoes. She spins them around the room: “Look how beautiful they are!” - ”Yes, very beautiful! And you're a beauty!” her grandfather smiles.

August in Kharkiv. A short pause between air raids. Daryna's room is full of toys, new books, and a large gel six: the girl recently celebrated her birthday. “This year she will go to the first grade. To an underground school,” says Natalia. The 153rd lyceum in Kharkiv is being equipped for underground classes. Due to constant Russian shelling, the city has no peace. But life goes on... Children need to stady. For the first few months, her granddaughter will attend classes online, and then, starting in the new year, their class will study in an underground school, the woman hopes.

Together with her husband Yuriy, she became their granddaughter's guardians. They became the whole world for the girl after Daryna's mother was taken away by a serious and incurable illness more than a year ago. The grandparents try to give the child as much warmth, care and joy as possible. But joy is always overshadowed by the war.

...Before the full-scale Russian invasion, the family lived in the village Kozacha Lopan in Kharkiv region, three kilometers from the Russian border. Natalia, Yuriy, their daughter Iryna and little Daryna. “Dasha is a long-awaited child, Iryna became a mother at the age of 39. We lived together, we had everything,” Natalia says, ”We had our own house, garden, and vegetable garden. My husband and I are retired, but we continued to work. Ira had a job in Dergachi at a furniture factory, and I got a job as a nurse in an emergency room. Daryna went to kindergarten.”

On February 24, 2022, they woke up early, as usual. “It was 5 a.m., we were getting ready for the train, Ira was reminding me as usual: 'Mom, don't forget your glasses, don't forget your phone charger,'” Natalia recalls. ”I just reached over to the desk to get my glasses, and something thundered right outside the window... It was Russian hail. Ira was already dressed, she was scared. She started to quickly dress Dasha, but Yura was still sleeping. We woke him up: the war had started, and he said to us: “What are you talking about? And then it exploded again somewhere nearby... Yura woke up in a flash. Then my son called me. He said: “Mom, don't get hysterical, but... tanks are coming from the direction of Belgorod. I thought it was a bad dream, that I was still sleeping.”

The occupiers were in Kozachia (as Mr. Yurii affectionately abbreviates the name of his native village) as early as 8 am. “We didn't have time to leave, and we didn't know where to go, we were confused,” the man recalls. Until July 25, they were forced to live under occupation. Despair still overwhelms him when he recalls that period. They spent almost all the time in the cellar, hiding from the shelling. Daryna could not sleep. “And our Iryna's health was ruined by sitting in a damp basement all the time,” she sighs, ”and stress added to everything. My daughter began to feel unwell. There were no medicines. A nurse lived across the street from us, she was allowed to go to the hospital, so she helped out whenever possible. She said: “When I get to the hospital, I will stuff all the medicines I can into my pockets. And then she would distribute them to those who needed them... Yes, people united and supported each other. But there were different cases. In the first two weeks, literally everyone showed who they really are.”

“The occupiers could stop you on the street and wipe all the information from your phone, without warning.”

“The shops in the village were looted for 3 days. People, ordinary people... No, first they were buying, and then they started looting. There were no authorities, no police,” sighs Mr. Yuriy. ”They broke windows and doors and stole everything they could at night. Those who had flour at home were baking bread and surviving somehow. We were left with only pasta. And my granddaughter comes and asks for bread. There is no bread, child. And pancakes, grandpa, maybe you can bake? How can you bake them when you don't have any flour? Then I found a way out: I twisted pasta through a meat grinder. I sifted it. What looked like flour was used for pancakes, and the rest was used for porridge... When they distributed bread for the first time, they gave us a loaf per person, Dasha ate half of her loaf on the way home.” 

The shelling in the village was constant, Yuriy recalls: “Just imagine: an ordinary day, doing something. It seems to be quiet. Two minutes later - an arrival. And you don't know where it's coming from. Kozacha is like an open target...”

Although, according to Natalia, they tried not to leave the house. Several times the invaders organized checks. “When their wounded - the occupiers called them 'podranky' - were walking through the village, the Russian military could simply stop any civilian without explanation. Once, Ira and Daryna came out of the house, and a Russian officer snatched my daughter's phone and wiped all the information - all the mobile applications, photos. He didn't even look to see if there was anything “forbidden”.

There was almost no connection. We had to go “uphill, into the weeds, out of the village” to catch a cell phone signal. Those who made it through would call and send greetings to their families, at least a few words: we are alive. “I had a prayer book with me all the time,” Natalia says, ‘I read the ’I believe...' prayer to the end. Without end... Our neighbor, Tanya, was involved in the distribution of humanitarian aid by the occupiers. She is a decent, kind woman... And one day she came to me and said: maybe soon it will happen that we will be joined... Where? Because of Belgorod. What are you talking about? I was hysterical, I cried for three days. How can this be? I grew up in Kharkiv, I studied there, worked there for many years. How can I not see my Kharkiv anymore?”

“The cab flew overhead, exploded three yards away...”

As soon as they could, they signed up for evacuation. They left for Brest via Belgorod, and from Brest they walked to Kovel. “We walked for almost a day,” Natalia says. ”Iryna's godmother's family consists of four adults and a 12-year-old girl. And me and Daryna, she is only three and a half years old. She was curious - she was walking with a pink backpack on her back, looking at everything around. And we were all very tired. At the border, our guys, the military, asked me - did you carry such a heavy bag by yourself? It was a hard way from home to home... They called the volunteers, met us, we spent the night in Kovel. And the next day they bought us train tickets. That's how we ended up in Ivano-Frankivsk.”

For more than a month, the family lived at the church, and then they were able to rent a house. When Daryna heard the sound of an airplane in the sky, she was scared: let's run and hide between the walls. They told her, “Child, it's just training flights, don't be afraid. “But those who have not lived under shelling and the constant threat of air raids will never understand the horror we went through...” says Natalia.

Mr. Yurii stayed at home to guard the house and survived the entire occupation. He has many painful memories. But the biggest pain is his family's: Iryna. Their daughter's illness began to progress rapidly. “Doctors in Ivano-Frankivsk conducted a detailed examination. Oncology... They immediately prescribed treatment, everything was free for us, but my daughter managed to take only two chemotherapy treatments. She died of the disease in four months. In March last year, we buried our child here in Kharkiv... - Natalia barely holds back her tears - We couldn't do it at home, the cemetery was mined. So now we live here, the three of us. We visit Kozacha, but mostly Yura, because someone has to stay with Daryna. My husband plants a vegetable garden there. We have our own potatoes, carrots, onions, and beets, so we can still survive. But this year there was almost no rain, so the garden didn't produce much. At least we have some potatoes, and that's good.”

Fortunately, their house in Kozacha Lopan survived, although the roof was cut by shrapnel. When she first entered the house after her return, Natalia says, she found no electricity or gas, and something crunched under her feet... It turned out to be a chandelier that had been shattered into small pieces by the blast wave. The occupants continue to shell the village mercilessly. The hospital, school, and fire station were destroyed. If 450 people used to live on their street, now there are only 18 left... “In the spring we came to plant potatoes, a neighbor says: a cab flew over our heads, exploded two yards away...”

In Kharkiv, life is also under constant threat. Recently, Natalia recalls, she was waiting for a bus at a bus stop. “I was sitting on a bench, talking to a woman. And then there was an explosion... It was just after the arrival, near the book market. I see the bus arrive, but my legs don't move... I don't know how I got on the bus. We're on our way. Here comes my stop, I have to get off, but my legs don't obey. I can't take a step. A woman next to me asks, “Are you feeling bad? “No,” I said, ”I'm fine, but my legs won't go. “Oh, I know this condition,” the woman replies. “That's how we all live here now - constantly on edge. Don't I know what arrivals are like? But this time it was as if a rocket had fallen and exploded behind me...”

“We thank Polish families from the bottom of our hearts... You do not let us give up”

It's hard morally, and no easier financially. The small pension that the couple receives cannot solve all the problems. “When we returned from Frankivsk to Kharkiv, some more social benefits followed us, and then it was just a financial abyss.... We had to apply for guardianship over Daryna - a whole bunch of certificates were needed. And this is all time, nerves. We applied to various charitable organizations, but no one called us back... And when Caritas-Spes told us that we were accepted into the Family to Family project, we couldn't believe it at first. God had heard our prayers...”

The family spends almost all the money they receive as part of the Polish-Ukrainian project “Family to Family” on preparing Daryna for school: clothes, shoes, stationery, and lessons with a speech therapist. “And we want to buy something tasty for the child, to please her... We recently organized a birthday party for our granddaughter: we set up a tennis table in the yard near the house and invited Daryna's friends. When we returned from Western Ukraine to Kharkiv and walked around together all the time, people asked Daryna: “Where is your mom, why are you always with your grandparents? “My mom is in heaven,” the child replied. It is bitter to hear this. It's very hard... But you have to go on living...”

Natalia says that now her and her husband's dream is for God to give them the health and strength to raise their granddaughter. And their biggest wish is for the war to end and for Ukraine to win. “Yes,” adds Mr. Yuriy, ”and that we can return home to our home and live in peace. And sleep peacefully. Thank you for not letting us give up. We thank Polish families who support us in such a difficult time. Sometimes hopelessness envelops us, and it seems that it is endless. But you give us wings and hope. Your support and humanity are priceless.”

...Daryna loves to draw. She is fond of singing and dancing. And when asked about her dream, she answers without hesitation: a kitten. “I want a little cat, black and white, beautiful. I want it to be with me always...”

“When we get home to Kozacha, you will have a cat,” says her grandfather.

27 August 2024
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