The Story of One Elderly Woman From the Ukrainian War Zone
Reposted from Valeriya Chernobay’s original post on Facebook.
Let me tell you one story about an elderly woman from a war zone in Ukraine.
We first met when she came to our church with a group of refugees from Donbass. Meeting at the entrance before settling them in with us, I asked if I could see her passport. And when she started nervously digging in a bag looking for it, I noticed her shoes were sticky with something.
That's why I carelessly told her: "We are an Evangelical Christian Church. We will welcome you, we will feed you for a couple of days for free, and then we will help you go further to Western Ukraine or Europe. And, by the way, your shoes are sticky with something. So we can give you an extra pair of shoes and wash these for you."
She replied, "Oh, thank you so much, darling! I tried to wash them, but the blood is hard to wash away."
"Blood!" I cried out. "Whose blood, yours?"
"No,” she said, “it's my daughter's blood." Then she told me her story:
A Russian missile crashed on the territory of the Kramatorsk railway station. The inscription on the rocket — “For the children.” Photo: Social media
"My name is Bolkhovtskaya Love. We come from the city of Bakhmut in Donetsk region, my daughter Lily and I. As the bombing of our city intensified, we finally decided to run to Western Ukraine. On April 8, 2022 we arrived in Kramatorsk to board one of the evacuation trains going to Lviv. (Kramatorsk was a kind of hub where people from all other small cities of Donbass came to get on the train to safer areas of Ukraine).
“There were thousands of people on the perron that day: mostly women with children, elderly people — all were waiting for the train that was about to arrive. I sat under one of the pine trees near the platform waiting for the train to arrive soon. My daughter's phone rang. This was her son Vlad, lieutenant of the Ukrainian army. On the phone with him, Lily walked further down the alley to make sure the people in line for the train still remember us and hold a seat for us.
Belongings are seen scattered across the Kramatorsk railway station following a Russian strike. Ukrainian Presidency Handout/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images
Then suddenly I heard a noise, and I was blown away by a strong wave. Something big hit the platform right where it went. At first, I didn't even realize that it was a rocket explosion. Despite the fact that there were fragments flying around me, I jumped up and ran to my daughter screaming, ‘Lily, Lily!!’
“But in return there was silence. The next moment I saw her body face down and blood was flowing from under her crippled face.
“I vaguely remember what happened to me next,” the old lady continued, “—the police brigade immediately arrived, some volunteers came and forced me to go with them. Later, the police investigator told me that all the victims of that shelling, alive or dead, were delivered to the Dnieper.
“That's why I came here. Can you help me find my daughter?” she asked.
I was standing in awe, shocked by what I just heard. "Yes," I finally squeezed out of myself, "we can help you." I knew I was supposed to help them.
Vlad, the grandson of Love, arrived the next day. He seemed a calm and confident 24-year-old young man. He was given a leave of service for literally a couple of days only to find his mother and accompany his grandmother to Vinnitsa.
We went together to the head office of the forensic and medical expertise in the Dnieper to find out if the daughter of Love was there. It's hard to describe all the emotional tension we experienced while getting to know the body! My heart broke into pieces as I watched this old lady go through photo after photo of the dead in Kramatorsk, every time hoping that she would not recognize her daughter among them.
But she found out. "This is her!” — she said with a strange mixture of grief and relief in her voice. "I recognized my Lily by her native spot and the gold necklace she wore before leaving the house."
Then we went to the morgue, where we were handed over the things found from the patient: the keys to their house and 200 hryvnia filled with blood.
"Oh, what a difficult fate I have! What a terrible fate!” Love collapsed while we were waiting in the morgue. "How should I bury my daughter?”
The old lady could barely speak, her upper lip was not soft and her hands were crushed. I rushed to give her heart pills. Realizing that this old lady and her grandson have no money, no power, and no time to organize Lilia's funeral or to transport her body to Vinnitsa where they were headed, I asked a morgue officer if the local authorities could arrange a funeral for her in the Dnieper. After Love signed the relevant papers, we were allowed to do so.
"I am so grateful to you, my dear, for taking care of us!" Love told me when I was leaving for home that evening. The next morning they were going to Vinnitsa.
“And I know that my mother is with the Lord today!” added Vlad.
And I thanked God for giving me the strength and resources to help those in suffering and my heart aches with them.
Lily's funeral is tomorrow. I'll be there as promised.
Valeriya Chernobay,
Secretary of Victory Evangelical Christian Church
April 12, 2022
Dnieper