We’ve lost a lot of things. We lost my father. I left my husband behind at the border. My heart is broken because I’ve never been without him. He’s a part of me, the biggest part of me, and now he’s not with me. There are no men with us.
On 23 February, I lost my dad unexpectedly, aged 59. The next day the war began. While many people were leaving Kyiv, my husband and I were trying to sort out funeral documents from all over the city in order to bury Dad. We went from morgue to funeral agency to prosecutor’s office to registry office to morgue to funeral agency.
The siren was sounding all sides and tanks drove around the city. We collected almost all the documents, ordered a restaurant for a commemoration, but since the registry office was evacuated, and didn’t give us one final document, the crematorium refused to accept anyone.
I’m a Python programmer and I work for a German company, and they helped me leave Ukraine for Poland. We left Kyiv in a small Peugeot 307 car. There were nine of us, me, my mum, my sister, our two husbands, four children and two big dogs, including an elderly German shepherd. It was impossible to move inside the car. We drove for 16 hours to a village about 140km from Kyiv.
We decided to leave the village later in the morning because it was dangerous, even there. Near the border with Poland there were a lot of cars and we couldn’t stay in the car for the next three – or five – days, so we decided to walk the last 17km to the border. We left at 4am – it was minus seven degrees. It was a hard trip around mountains and rivers. My kids were crying because of the cold. I wanted to cry too but I couldn’t give up … it was my idea to go to the border.
My dog is 12 and a half and she struggled to walk and fell down every kilometre or so and couldn’t stand up again. I stopped cars and asked for help but everyone refused; they advised us to leave the dogs. But our dogs are part of our family. My dog has experienced all the happy and sad moments with us. Mum’s dog is all she has left of her former life. So my husband, at times, carried our dog on his shoulders.
We arrived at the border and there were about five, or perhaps seven, red tents and a big crowd. Just before going into a red tent, a woman asked me to take her 11-year-old daughter and help her pass the time and not get lost – a woman was waiting for her in Poland. Of course I agreed.
We stayed in a tent for about seven hours. We were all in there, dogs and five children, all with wet feet. It was hard physically and psychologically – a lot of people around us needed help and medicine. It seemed that these red tents would never end.
But when we took our first steps into Poland, when we showed our passes, it was then I realised that we would be OK, that we were in a safe place.
My husband couldn’t cross the border because of his age and the mobilisation order. He has gone back to the village to look after his mother and grandmother. There’s only seven of them there and almost everyone is over 60 years old. My sister’s husband is there, too, with his parents and a friend of his parents. All of them are in one little house without water. There’s no shop, no pharmacy, no water or food in the village and he and my sister’s husband are using firewood to heat the house.
My plan is just, I don’t know. I want my husband here. For now, what I will do with my kids, is decide where I want to stay: here in Poland, or go to Germany, like all of my colleagues.
A lot of my friends are still in Ukraine, in Kyiv. Some of them are in Kharkiv in bunkers with little kids. I can’t even imagine what they’re feeling now. We always cry when we watch the TV news, here in Poland. We’re always watching it. I cry because I can’t imagine what’s happening.
It was hard to leave Ukraine. At first I lost my dad, and now I leave my husband there. My husband is a big part of me, he is my best friend, assistant, adviser. Our boundless love is what gives me strength now.
Everything has remained in Kyiv, life, gadgets, everything. But, these are just things. The only things I left behind in Ukraine are my husband and Dad’s body.
My dad is still in the morgue, and I hope that when I come back he’ll still be there. I’ll make it the best funeral I can.
If you are affected by the situation in Ukraine, you can share your story here.
