The first day of the attack: 11 July 2014, 10:38 p.m. Two shells fell in my son's room. One shell fell right when Son was watching TV after work. It exploded there, causing so much destruction. My daughter-in-law was in the living room. She was not harmed severely.
4th August was the day when artillery shelling began. Everything burned to the ground. Our grandpa was a miner. We lived happily. We had a summer kitchen. So our housing burned down. Even the garden was damaged. Apparently, it was an explosive bomb.
Praise be to God that we were given an apartment. You can't even imagine what it is like to have no place to live when you are 83 years old.
I don't or can't even remember everything, all those horrors... when I found out that my son died. I asked my neighbours to help bring him. I was terrified when I saw him! I can't stop picturing this over and over again.
My son's name was Viktor. There is nothing worse for a parent to lose a child. It is something that cannot be conceived or tolerated with. It is a tragedy.
On 4 August, my house burned down. It happened 25 days after his death. We had to bury him to the sounds of shells falling nearby. A field was burning not far away. Shevchenko Collective Farm. I would not wish it to anyone to live through something like this.
I can't even call it a life. There are times when I feel so depressed that... I often think that there would be no one to light a candle in the church for me.
