Stories that you confided to us
This is my home. I was born here. Opposite is the hosue where my husband and I lived. We bought it and lived together. The husband is long gone, the children – my son-in-law and daughter – are dead. There are four of us left – me and my grandchildren.
We just endure. What is there left to do? The oldest grandson Andrii is a good and persistent student. Katiusha is also a good student. She will be in class five soon. The youngest grandchild is just a baby. Despite the young age, he is a smart boy and understands everything. Everything seems fine. I just wish everyone was healthy and there was no war. That is it.
To tell the truth, I wanted to die myself. Then, somehow I managed to pull through. We've been granted custody. That is how we live. What is there left to do? Well, we got some support from the older children. I have two more sisters. They often came and tried to persuade us that we should somehow continue to live, that we should take care of the children, and not think about ourselves.
The daughter had a heart attack last night. One day, the children call me at 4 o'clock in the morning. Andriusha called and said that little Kolia was crying, but his mother didn't wake up. God, I came running barefoot, wearing only my pyjamas. I started CPR on her. But it didn't help. I looked at her– her lips were blue. So I understood that it was too late.
The doctors said she died at 02:00 in the morning. She used to get sick from time to time. Like everyone else, she took some medicines and moved on like the rest of us. The stress was also caused by the fact that the son-in-law died, and she was left with the children alone.
If it wasn't for the war, there would be nothing to worry about. The firing attacks that happened here... When Grad launchers started firing, bullets hit everywhere.
A mother is a mother, and a grandmother is a grandmother. Sometimes Kolia calls me Mum. Well, wherever he calls me, it doesn't really matter. Whether it is Mother or Grandmother. I take care of them. I dress them, cook for them, clean for them, and keep them warm. We will see what follows next. If we need to chop wood, I say, "Please, chop wood, Andrii." Or he will take the water and bring it here, so that I can get closer. And Katia pours it. Andrii picks it up and delivers it.
Luckily, we can go outside all right. However, when they start shooting at us, we don't go out — we are afraid. We have a firing range nearby – the place is so loud sometimes.
When quoting a story, a reference to the source – the Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation – is mandatory, as follows:
The Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation https://civilvoicesmuseum.org/
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