Nikolaichyk Yelyzaveta, 14 years old

Winner of the 2025 Essay Contest, 3rd place

Academic Lyceum “Yevropeiskyi” of the Lubny City Council, Lubny District, Poltava Region

Teacher who inspired the essay: Hanaha Nataliya Mykolayivna

“The event that changed everything. The power of help”

Warm memories… How I love leafing through the pages of our family photo albums on quiet evenings, listening to my mom and grandma tell fascinating stories about their childhood and youth. There’s a whole life in those memories and yellowed photographs. Mom has a school album, all covered with wishes from her teachers and classmates. One evening, we were sitting together, laughing at my childhood mischief — I used to love writing in that album about myself, too. Suddenly, a photo flashed before my eyes — it looked familiar. A smiling girl with a mane of red hair was looking out from it.

I remembered — it was Aunt Maryna. She used to calm me down at the children’s clinic, where she worked as a nurse, because I was really scared of those doctor visits.

I asked about her life now. Mom found her Facebook page and simply said: “Scroll through it. You’ll see and understand everything.” I spent the whole evening reading her posts. Then another evening. And another. I thought a lot, and there was this painful ache in my heart. What incredible strength of spirit this beautiful red-haired woman has…

February 2022… It feels like it’s still going on. A single second — and a once-settled life changed forever. Aunt Maryna’s dearest loved ones: her two sons and husband rose to defend their motherland, Ukraine.

From the very first minutes — without hiding, without waiting for a draft notice. Endless hours, days, months of worry began. Just imagine what it’s like to live with the constant thought: “Are they alive?” To stay awake and think. To wait for some news or a phone call. The sky trembled with sorrow and fell to the earth — the mother — in women’s tears. One phone call — and a woman’s life is split in two: "Your son was killed while protecting his wounded comrades." A heavy blanket fell upon the mother’s shoulders, and inside — as if a scorched black field. Indescribable pain, a scream, a heart torn from the chest. I don’t know how much strength it takes to survive the grief of losing your own child — the son you carried in your womb, gave birth to, cherished, held close. Just like that, a single second turns everything upside down, and you don’t understand how to go on. How do you make yourself live?

We pay a high price for our path to freedom. Roman Yaremenko — that was her son’s name. His comrades at the front called him “Poet,” because he wrote poetry.

Forgive me, Mama, this is not your fault!

Childhood flew by like a falcon.

Now, Mama, I’m no longer a child.

Now I’m a warrior — a son of my country.

The days turned painful and bitter, holidays pass the house by, and only one thought echoes in the mind: “He won’t return, he won’t come back. He’ll be waiting among the clouds of his spring.”

She lifts her eyes to the radiant sky and feels her angel son’s gaze: “Don’t cry, Mama. There are many like me here. Sit down, light a candle, and pray. For all those who vanished into the unknown, and for the living, who are bringing our victory closer. I’ll touch you in your sleep. Forgive me, my dearest. Hold on…” And the days and nights stretch on, when she seems present — yet not. Faded, crushed, yet still existing. At work, at home, in conversation — but somehow no longer feeling herself. Everything seems like a fog.

Aunt Maryna lost her son two years ago. Do you think grief and sorrow did their dark work and broke this proud Ukrainian woman? No! Every day she wakes up, gathers herself piece by piece, rolls up her sleeves, and gets to work. She became a volunteer.

The strength of a Hero’s mother offering help is immeasurable. She collects food and clothes, brings warmth and nourishment to the wounded in hospitals, helps repair front-line vehicles for the defenders. Hundreds of people thank this courageous woman for her kind deeds and offer her words of support.  And she replies: “My dear ones, learn to cherish every moment. Embrace each other, speak kind words, because sometimes you so badly want to say what remained unsaid. To hear and see them just once more. And the heart would feel warm and comforted.”

Cherish the days when there is no pain, when your children are healthy, when you have someone to tell your dreams or your day to, someone to think of — and someone thinking of you. Pray for those thanks to whom we have our homes and sunrises.

Just like that, one event changed everything and became the story of an ordinary red-haired woman. Simple. Unbreakable. Strong in spirit! I sincerely thank her for her Hero son, and for her two other brave, dear men, who are giving everything — even their lives — so that we can be free! Glory to Ukraine! Glory to the Heroes!