The Sacrifice

She sat to my left, then apologized from the beginning for the speech impediment caused by logo-neurosis. It had triggered at the age of 9, while living in the distant and cold north, occupied by the Russians. She doesn't know what event caused this disorder, and she has no desire to dig through memories. We start to talk. She is delicate and gentle. Her eyes transformed into light when, out of nowhere and unexpectedly, they filled with tears. Just a few days before the Russian army invasion in Ukraine, she had lost her husband. The pain she still feels speaks to me about a love, a great, immense love. A love that hasn't let go of dear memories but is powerful enough to embrace many others.

While they were still a happy family with her journalist husband, Olena became one of the best accountants in Dnipro, the city they had settled in. After her husband's death, being a mother of two boys with a flourishing career, Olena has been involved in volunteering on her own since 2014, when the war in Ukraine started, and since 2022 she has joined volunteer organizations. She accompanied relief distribution teams on the front line from Pisky to Mariupol, often having to sleep in trenches under artillery bombardment. Olena speaks little about herself, smiling reservedly. She tells me about her sons and grandsons, who are her soul's fuel for the future. She talks about the early days after the invasion when they set up a collection and distribution point for aid in the company's headquarters. She raised money for special equipment for Ukrainian defenders. She did all of this while her heart was full of the pain of losing her husband.

In March, a large number of soldiers she had known for 9 years were killed. This time too, she didn't allow herself the luxury of grieving because materials for the front were becoming increasingly scarce. Together with other volunteers, they established true supply networks, collecting everything necessary from all over Europe - sleeping bags, protective helmets, masks, and clothes. They were shipped to Lviv, and from there, volunteers took them to Dnipro and wherever needed. "Unfortunately, now the state cannot, does not have the means to provide our soldiers with everything they need. This is where we, the volunteers, intervene because I feel that this is how we can thank those who defend us from invaders."

Olena's greatest fear was for her grandchildren. This fear was with her from the moment the alarms started to ring until she knew they were safe in western Ukraine. Since then, she tells me with a smile that she only feared taking a shower, lest explosions catch her without clothes. She laughs, and I appreciate her bitter humor, which I detected in each of her fellow countrywomen.

Olena's colleagues describe her as tireless. Those who fight trust that she has their backs, that they can always rely on her help. She doesn't have any material or other benefits - not even medical insurance - even though she goes to the hottest spots of the war. Nevertheless, she is unstoppable. "She is an example of strength, motivation, and inspiration" - these are the words of a soldier who wrote about Olena.

I don't want to disturb her with too intimate of questions and instead I let her tell me what she considers important about herself. She tells me about her native Yakutia, where she grew up until the age of 16. She talks about her grandmother, who managed to escape from a camp during World War II, and about her mother, who was later deported to Eastern Siberia. She tells me about the small Ukrainian communities she had as neighbors, hardworking people who cultivated the land and raised animals as much as the climate allowed. She smiles, and then we discuss, once again, her beloved Ukraine.

Time passes slowly, and I have already understood that this woman carries even more beauty in her heart than on the face shaded by the sadness of the past few months.