May 12, 2022


Original post:

I’m going to write the scariest words of my life. I’m going to write in Russian for the last time because I spoke in Russian only with you. I must write. I want the whole world to scream about the way you were. And without you, the only thing I know how to do is to write.

I sit beside my dead husband. My life lies beside me in a closed coffin. My life, who wiped away my tears and told me he would never leave me. Who stroked me all night when I was sick. Who bragged about me to everyone. And I bragged about you. And I thanked God for you being the wat you are. It’s like I don’t exist anymore.

I don’t know a purer, kinder, more worthy Man. You were the best at everything. Not because you were mine. You truly were. You were good at everything. You were appreciated everywhere. All your words ring in my ears. Just the sweet ones. You never said any others. If something cool appeared at our house, you’d immediately say who we’d share it with. If something happened, I only held on because of you. One “Zaya! [gentle way to call a loved one in Ukraine]” was enough to make me stand at attention. You’d fly home from the service with your pockets full of chocolates so I wouldn’t be sad. And everything you took with you, you always handed out to brag about my cooking skills. You were never afraid of anything, not once. You shined a smile every day, even when things were bad. “I’m warmly dressed, and I eat well,” on all occasions. You made plans for the year ahead for when we would go to see our parents. “Have I ever denied you anything?” you answered to all my stupidest things. “I’ll take care of you, and everything will be fine. We still have to make children,” “What ‘work’? The main thing is that you are healthy and happy,” “I’d love to have a baby girl like that,” you said every single day. And you always helped. I could ask for anything. “What are you, a commander?” you teased with a sly smile. “Worse,” I’d say, “I’m the commander’s wife.” And I’d kiss your nose. I could tell you things I never told anyone, and you always understood.

After we got married, you added a house next to the heart in my contact on your phone and said, “You’re my home forever now.”

I knew how unbearable we would be when would be at old age. “Zaya, the pan is out of place again.” “Zaya, who was drinking coffee and didn’t get the capsule?” I knew what kind of eyes our children would have. I decided a long time ago what to give you on our first wedding anniversary. And instead, I had to choose a wreath for your grave. The last time I talked to you, you said you were guarding my sleep. Now I’m guarding yours for the rest of my life.

You’re an officer with such an internal code of honor that those bitches couldn’t even dream of. You are my heart! You are my soul! You were, and you will be. I love you immensely, and I’m proud of you.

I curse those fascists for you, my dear, for our unborn children, and our stolen lives, yours and mine.

I sit next to my dead husband. I am a widow at 25. My life was stolen by non-humans. My life was stolen by fucking Russia.

1 Comment

  • I am so sorry for your loss. And that the actions of a selfish egomaniac dictator took your love and life away from you. I hope and pray that he rots in hell. My condolences and know that your love will always be with you. In your heart, in your mind and in your soul. You will carry a piece of him with you forever.

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