“This pain will never go away. We’ll just learn to live with it”: stories of the fallen soldiers’ wives who founded a community
When their husbands were killed in battle, five wives founded a private community to help and support each other which they called My Razom (We Are Together). They did not know each other before, but personal grief has made them close friends who understand each other best. Only wives of fallen heroes are added to the group, and there are now about 400 of them.
There they share their stories, all of which end in the same way. Here we tell the stories of how the wives lost their husbands in the war, and how they are supporting one another after their loss.
Alina Karnaukhova
Alina Karnaukhova comes from Ukrainsk, 40 km from the city of Donetsk. She used to work as an economist.
When the war started in 2014, she became a volunteer delivering hot meals to soldiers. This was how she met her beloved Serhii: he was serving in the 93rd Separate 'Kholodnyi Yar' Mechanised Brigade.
Serhii Karnaukhov was a Ukrainian powerlifting champion who competed at an international level. As soon as the "little green men" appeared in Crimea, he decided to join the Armed Forces of Ukraine. [The "little green men" were masked Russian soldiers who appeared when the war started in 2014, wearing unmarked green army uniforms and carrying modern Russian military weapons and equipment - ed.] He was rejected at first and they just made a note of his details.
He was finally called up on 24 March 2014. During their first year together, the couple saw each other a lot when Serhii was in Donetsk Oblast. But in 2016, his brigade was moved out of the sector, and the issue of a long-distance relationship arose.
Alina with her husband Serhii
"We decided that this wouldn't be a problem.
From 2016 to 2020, I used to follow Serhii around wherever he was. I'd travel to spend the weekend with him every two weeks. We'd stay in damaged frontline houses...
It actually didn't matter where - all that mattered was who I was with," Alina recounts. Serhii was wounded in 2019. A sniper aimed at his head, but the bullet went right through his left arm.
After six months of rehabilitation, Serhii was back in the ranks. And when his contract expired in 2022, he didn't extend it. He and Alina had got married a few months before he left the army.
"Serhii was working on his position with a machine gun until 4 am on the day of our wedding. It was in Luhansk Oblast. I came and picked him up.
We got married in Ukrainsk," Alina recollects.
Serhii was working on his position with a machine gun until 4 am on the day of his wedding
They bought an apartment in Berdiansk the same year - they wanted a calm life near the sea. Both of them started working at a local meat processing plant: Serhii as a manager, Alina on the financial side. "We wanted a normal family life.
People who have that think it's something ordinary. But when you don't have it... You want to see your husband every day, to fall asleep and wake up in the same bed.
Such simple dreams," Alina says. In December 2021, Serhii became the head of branded retail at a Berdiansk meat processing plant. Even though he didn't have the relevant degree, he had leadership skills that helped him.
Serhii was away on business in Melitopol just before the full-scale invasion started. When President Zelenskyy signed a law on the mobilisation of first-line reservists on 23 February 2022, Serhii called his office and told them he wouldn't even have time to hand over his projects to someone else. At 07:00 on 24 February, he, Alina and her 14-year-old son left Berdiansk for the city of Dnipro.
From there, Serhii immediately left for a military unit of the 93rd Brigade. As the situation deteriorated in February 2022, Alina had realised that her husband would go to fight in the war. She could not object to his choice.
At 07:00 on 24 February, Serhii, Alina and her 14-year-old son left Berdiansk and went to Dnipro.
Serhii immediately left for a military unit of the 93rd brigade
"Even though this tragedy has happened, I don't agree when people say life is the most valuable thing. That's not true. The most valuable things are freedom, honour and dignity.
And that's exactly what our husbands are dying for," Alina says. Because of his extensive combat experience, Serhii ended up in intelligence. He served on the border of Kharkiv and Sumy oblasts, and then near Balakliia and Izium.
On 27 May 2022, Serhii Karnaukhov died of a head injury near the village of Dibrivne in Kharkiv Oblast. Alina learned about her husband's death from his commander two hours after it happened. She decided to go to him right away.
His body was in a hospital in Barvinkove - a combat action zone at the time. Alina can drive, but she couldn't bear to just then, so she asked a volunteer she knows to help her. They got to the hospital through checkpoints, driving with their lights turned off.
Alina entered a cramped room. There were two black bags lying on the floor. They opened one of them, and inside was Serhii.
The doctor attempted to hide his head in order not to reveal his injury. But Alina was not afraid. They took her husband's body armour off and lifted up his clothes.
"He used to do martial arts before he got into powerlifting. His ribs were broken in fights and healed wrongly. At home I loved to caress those ribs so much.
I sat there in the hospital and stroked his belly. My husband wasn't cold yet. Not that long ago he'd still been alive.
Blood was pouring and pouring out of him. I don't know how much blood a person has that it can flow for that long. But it kept on pouring out.
Red blood. The scariest thing was leaving the place. I was frightened to go into a world that no longer had my husband in it," Alina recounts.
Alina is now serving in the Armed Forces of Ukraine
After Serhii's death, Alina joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine.
Most of all, she wants to follow in her husband's footsteps. And secondly, she wanted to work with people who share her values. She holds a staff position in Novomoskovsk in Dnipropetrovsk Oblast.
Svitlana Povar
Svitlana and Semen met in 2003 when she was 22 and he was 18.
She was a student at Taras Shevchenko National University of Kyiv, and he had just arrived in Kyiv after living in an orphanage and studying at college in Zaporizhzhia. "When we met, he was sort of a kid from the streets. But despite that, he was educated and well-read.
He talked to me about [Erich Maria] Remarque. I was thinking,'Seriously?!'" Svitlana reminisces. Svitlana and Semen have two children.
Their son is 17 and their daughter is 12. The couple married in 2017.
Svitlana and Semen
"We weren't a typical couple. We both had very short tempers.
We dated, then broke up, then got back together, then married other people," Svitlana recollects. In 2017, after six years of no contact between them, they met in Kostiantynivka. Both were serving in the Armed Forces of Ukraine at that moment.
Serhii spotted Svitlana on a platform but hesitated to approach her. But after that, he texted to say that he'd noticed her, and he signed it "Your Happiness". That was what she called him; he called her "Tenderness".
A few days later, they met in Volnovakha, and they got married a month later in Mariupol. They decided they'd had enough of not being together. "We went for a walk around the city.
Had an argument. Wanted to go back and get divorced, but we couldn't find the way. That's what we were like," Svitlana remembers.
Ten days after the wedding, Semen was wounded.
Svitlana and Semen have two children. Their son is 17
The family lived in Boiarka in Kyiv Oblast. Semen completely renovated Svitlana's house.
He was a construction worker by trade. The couple used to go travelling around Ukraine every weekend. They'd select different routes, get in the car and set off - they could drive more than 1,000 km in two days.
In February 2022, they often used to see military equipment on the road. Semen had packed his things ready two weeks before the full-scale invasion started. On 24 February, the couple took their children and family members out of the city, then the next day they went to a military enlistment office.
Svitlana was rejected, but Semen joined the 72nd Brigade, just like he wanted. Initially he was stationed in Kyiv, Vyshhorod and Chornobyl. When Semen was in the capital, Svitlana went to see him every day.
She admitted to being glad that her husband was not in any hot spots. But then he went to Donetsk Oblast, though he didn't tell her this right away.
Semen joined the 72nd Brigade, just like he wanted
At the end of August, Semen got in touch after two weeks of silence and said that he was going to be withdrawn from the front line in a few days' time. They talked for half an hour then - their longest phone call during the war.
Then there were another few days of silence. It was Svitlana's birthday on 7 September. She was sure that her husband would find a way to wish her a happy birthday.
"I knew he wouldn't miss it. And he didn't," she says. That was the day she was told her husband had been killed near the village of Pavlivka in Donetsk Oblast on 4 September.
Svitlana went to collect his body herself. They buried the defender in the Avenue of Heroes in Boiarka. "I was so afraid he would 'go missing'.
I realise that those of us who got to bury [our dead loved ones] are the lucky ones. At least we know," Svitlana says
It was Svitlana's birthday on 7 September. That was the day she was told her husband had been killed on 4 September
Svitlana recounts that Semen loved children.
When he collected their daughter from kindergarten, all the children would run up to him and ask him to tell them a fairy tale. Semen used to tell his wife stories as well. Sometimes, when he got the opportunity, he'd call from the army at night and tell a few stories.
At some point Svitlana would start to fall asleep, so in order not to miss any of the story, she recorded their conversations on her phone. Now she listens to those recordings, even though it hurts. Semen's love of cooking earned him the nickname "Cook".
Whenever he had any free time, he would make soup for his comrades. "After he died, I realised I had no clue how our oven works. He chose it very carefully.
He used to talk to me about it, but I knew he was choosing it for himself," Svitlana says.
Tetiana Vatsenko-Bondarieva
He was 19 when they met, and she was 15. Tetiana and Denys met at a circus school in Poltava. They became friends, then Denys left to study in Kyiv and they didn't see each other for several years.
A few years later, they met again. They moved in together in Kyiv. Their son, born 15 years ago, looks very like his dad.
Tetiana and Denys met at a circus school in Poltava
Denys Bondariev was a stuntman and stunt director.
Tetiana co-founded a project called Fairytales for Sleepyheads. She says their love was all-consuming: they couldn't eat, sleep or breathe when they were apart. "We loved to go camping and fishing in the summer, to sit by the campfire.
We've always worked a lot and unfortunately, that meant we put a lot of things off. It was as if we were putting off living our lives. But it's only now that I realise that.
After all that time together, Denys and I were emotionally and spiritually woven together. I don't feel whole without him; half of me is missing," Tetiana recalls. The couple opened a cafe called Kaviarko together, but it was only open for six months.
"We worked on it a lot. We had plans to open another two locations last spring; we wanted to keep working and growing in the hospitality industry, as we'd started to see some success," Tetiana says.
The couple opened a cafe called Kaviarko, which only existed for six months
The start of Russia's full-scale invasion on 24 February changed all that. The couple decided to go back to Poltava to be with their parents.
Denys wanted to join the territorial defence forces, but he was not accepted. He joined the Armed Forces of Ukraine instead, ending up in the 81st Brigade. Soon afterwards, he was deployed to the front.
Tetiana accepted his decision and started volunteering together with their son. Tetiana was the only person Denys kept in touch with from the front. She said she could always tell when he was involved in particularly fierce battles: she felt it in her body.
The last time they saw each other was just before Denys was deployed to Zaporizhzhia Oblast; they only had a few hours together. "I was certain he would come back. He did, but I could only embrace his body as it lay in the coffin."
Denys Bondariev was killed on 21 May 2022
Denys Bondariev was killed on 21 May 2022, not far from the city of Huliaipole in Zaporizhzhia Oblast. The only one of her husband's belongings Tetiana was given was his dog tag, which she now wears around her neck. She's had one engraved with her own personal information too.
After the death of her husband, Tetiana moved out of the apartment they rented together for six years. Now she keeps moving frequently: she says she cannot stay in the same place for long. She's involved in the "We Are Together" community.
"I go on a lot of walks. I like getting lost in unfamiliar places. I like being in the street, feeling the rustle of leaves under my feet.
I want to feel something other than pain. I got several tattoos, got my ears pierced. I've dyed my hair and changed my hairstyle.
I've managed to almost erase my past self," Tetiana says.
Natalia Horodetska
Natalia and Anton met in 2011 at a car-lovers' club called the Tucson Club. Anton was one of the club's founders, and Natalia came along to a few meetings. They were just friends at first, then started dating in 2013 and got married a year later.
Natalia and Anton
Natalia is a personal assistant to an IT executive; Anton used to own a car service.
They lived in Vyshhorod with their two girls; their elder daughter turns eight in March and the younger one is four. Anton and Natalia were an active couple and often travelled together. They took part in a Prague to Paris car rally, went on countless camping trips, visited Croatia in 2016, and went to Bulgaria when their youngest daughter was only eight months old.
In summer 2021 they went to Albania. Last summer, Natalia bought a camper van in Warsaw; it was Anton's dream. "He was so happy when I agreed because at first I wasn't very keen on the idea.
Now the camper van is here. I'll travel with our girls; I'll keep my husband's dream alive," Natalia says. Anton Horodetskyi grew up in a patriotically-minded family.
He spoke Ukrainian and taught his Russian-speaking wife to speak it too.
Anton and Natalia were an active couple and often travelled together
On 24 February, Anton, Natalia and their daughters were woken up by explosions; there are several military units near their home. The four of them spent the first night of Russia's full-scale invasion in a basement underneath their garage. The next morning Natalia read in the news that Russian tanks were approaching Vyshhorod.
They set out for Bukovel [in western Ukraine - ed.], where Natalia's firm was relocating. Anton joined the territorial defence and attended several training sessions. One day he decided to stop by a local enlistment office.
"He said, 'I'm just going to ask them [if they're recruiting].' Two hours later he was home with a call-up notice. He was told to pack and go back to them. He joined the 68th Oleksa Dovbush Jager Brigade," Natalia says.
Several days later, she moved to Warsaw with her daughters and her mother, as the IT company where she worked had relocated there. Anton ended up in a communications company. He last visited his family in July when he was on leave.
?nton ended up joining a communications company
On 4 September he and Natalia exchanged a few messages, but the next day he was no longer answering his phone.
An acquaintance of Natalia's who served in the same brigade as Anton told her that several of his comrades had been trapped under rubble following a Russian strike. Six people were eventually pulled out from under the rubble, but Anton was not one of them. "I called everyone I could and no one knew anything.
I reached the [Polish-Ukrainian] border on the evening of 5 September, then I went to Lviv. The next morning I reached one of the brigade's commanders. He said they'd found Anton's body.
He was dead," Natalia says. She did not go to identify the body, but immediately set off for Kyiv with her colleague. "I wasn't allowed to see my husband's body.
He was crushed by a concrete slab," Natalia says. Anton Horodetskyi was buried in Vyshhorod, in the Avenue of Glory. Natalia wants to redesign the walkway and has enlisted the cemetery management to join her in realising her plans this spring.
She's already prepared a mock-up of her proposed changes.
Anton Horodetskyi was buried in Vyshhorod, in the Avenue of Glory
Natalia now lives and works in Warsaw with her children. She visits Vyshhorod often to tend to her husband's grave. When she brought her daughters with her to mark 40 days since their father's death [as is traditional in Ukraine], they witnessed a large-scale attack.
Her elder daughter was terrified as they ran for the garage basement once again. It was their first time there without Anton.
Oksana Borkun
Friends describe Volodymyr Hunko, an officer from the 58th Hetman Ivan Vyhovskyi Motorised Infantry Brigade, as "the best Vova in the world." He was killed near Bakhmut on 31 July 2022. Oksana only got to spend two years with him.
They connected on social media and met the same day. "I felt like I'd found someone I'd spend the rest of my life with. We even share a birthday: 23 April," Oksana says.
Oksana and Volodymyr
Volodymyr joined the Donbas Battalion as a volunteer in 2014.
He survived the battles of Ilovaisk and Shyrokyne and spent four years in Russian captivity. He returned and served in the battalion until 2016, then worked as a volunteer helping frontline soldiers and the families of fallen heroes. As a civilian, he worked as a manager at Goodwine and Fermachi [two upmarket food shops].
Oksana was an HR professional and was head of HR at several large firms. ?ksana and Volodymyr lived in Irpin, Kyiv Oblast. They grew flowers in their garden and loved travelling together.
"We used to listen to a lot of professional and personal development workshops together. We had so many plans - we wanted to start a business together, a shop or a cafe. We wanted to get a dog.
We dreamed about buying a flat or a house," Oksana says.
Oksana and Volodymyr lived in Irpin, Kyiv Oblast, and grew flowers in their garden
Oksana says that she didn't want to believe that Russia would invade Ukraine until the very end. On 24 February, when the full-scale invasion started, Volodymyr took her to Uzhhorod [in western Ukraine - ed.]. It was a long journey.
As they approached their destination, Oksana realised that Volodymyr knew he wouldn't stay. She says she respected his decision. "When I asked him if there was any way I could convince him not to go, he said no.
He said he would go back no matter what, because the Russians have no right to drive us out of our homes or take our land, they have no right to attack us," Oksana recalls. Volodymyr returned home and went to the enlistment office. He was told to stay in Kyiv to train recruits.
At the same time, he was helping the front and volunteering. But he wanted to go to the front line. "All his comrades were there, and it really bothered him.
He tried to transfer to another department, but it didn't work out. The death of a close comrade was the last straw. Volodymyr found a way to transfer," says Oksana.
Volodymyr left for the Kostiantynivka-Bakhmut front.
He was killed a week later
Some people he knew got a vehicle from volunteers, loaded it with everything he needed, and Volodymyr set off for the Kostiantynivka-Bakhmut front. A week later he was killed: on the night of 30 July, a rocket hit the premises where his unit was located. During their last conversation, Volodymyr told Oksana that he was 30 km away from the front line so that she wouldn't be worried.
When her husband did not get in touch for three days, Volodymyr's father, who went to the war as a volunteer in 2022, sounded the alarm. In the end, Oksana found out about the tragedy via acquaintances. Volodymyr was buried in his native village of Obodivka in Vinnytsia Oblast.
He was his parents' only son. "My husband's family immediately accepted me into their family. They are really nice, hard-working people.
I have so much respect and gratitude to them for their son," says Oksana. After several months in Uzhgorod, Oksana returned to Irpin. When intensive blackouts began in the city, and it became unbearably cold at home, she went back.
Now she devotes most of her time to building the "We Are Together" community.
"You're not alone any more, we are together"
The "We Are Together" community began with a regular chat on Telegram. Alina Karnaukhova and Tetiana Vatsenko-Bondarieva were the first to connect. Their husbands had been killed just days apart.
The women didn't know each other in person, but their paths had crossed in an online volunteer community. "We started messaging, supporting each other. Because with this loss, it seems that no one understands you.
You feel useless, abandoned," says Alina Karnaukhova. Then they decided to create a private Facebook group. Only wives of fallen soldiers are added.
That's the rule. Gradually, more and more members were added to the group. Now there are about 400 of them.
"We didn't go looking for them, it's just that women from our circle are becoming widows one after another," Alina says. "We can talk for hours: everyone's stories are different, but the pain is very similar."
Alina Karnaukhova and Tetiana Vatsenko-Bondarieva
When Tetiana Vatsenko-Bondarieva was creating the chat group, she was wondering what to name it. The words "We Are Together" appeared spontaneously. "When new girls join the group, I tell them, 'You are not alone now, we are together'," says Tetiana.
The women talk, support each other, and share contact details for psychologists who can help them survive their loss. Those who live in the same city meet up and spend hours together just talking. "When you are bereaved, you really want to talk about your husband.
Society is not always ready to listen to such a volume of information. We won't have any new memories. We just talk about what has already happened.
We pour out our souls to each other," says Alina. One important area is legal support. Some members of the group are lawyers who help women put together the documents they need in order to receive payments [from the state].
This is a long and difficult process. It can often take more than six months for a family to receive any money.
Alina Karnaukhova together with community members Maryna and Natalia
The group has certain rules. All communication must be in Ukrainian.
Advertising is prohibited, as is any discussion of religious topics. It's important to accept each other's differences and not lecture people. So far, all work involving the community has been voluntary.
Ten or so members of the group handle the administration. Natalia Horodetska and Oksana Borkun spread awareness and persuade volunteers to talk about the community.
The community is growing
Everyone can write an introductory post, tell their story, and post a photo of themselves and their husband. "Whenever they can, the ladies talk about themselves, their loved ones, their children.
Every story is worth a film and a book. The only horror is that you always know how it will end," says Tetiana Vatsenko-Bondarieva. The community would like to be able to help the children of the victims and to organise retreats for women as a distraction.
One of the biggest projects they have already completed together was New Year gifts for the children of fallen defenders. Volodymyr Hunko had been working on this initiative since 2014. Oksana Borkun decided to continue his work.
She started out by fundraising for 25 families. So many people responded to her post that in the end, 300 children and 222 women received gifts. In the future, Oksana wants to give children presents on their birthdays as well.
Natalia Horodetska has "Anton", her husband's name, tattooed on her hand
How to survive a loss
Each of the co-founders of the "We Are Together" project says they understand each other's grief like no one else.
"Society has not yet formed a culture of compassion and grief. People often say things that are hurtful for women who have lost their husbands: 'You still have everything ahead of you', 'You'll meet someone else', 'You'll have men queuing up for you', or 'That's enough grieving, life goes on.' Or, on the contrary, acquaintances and friends begin to avoid you," the women recount. The main advice from our interviewees is to allow yourself to experience your own grief, regardless of other people's advice or comments.
Farewell to Serhii Karnaukhov
"There is no right or wrong way to live with grief.
You have to allow yourself to open up. You shouldn't keep pain to yourself. Because it comes out in physical illnesses," says Alina Karnaukhova.
Alina observes that the stage of acute pain after a loss is a year to 18 months. But that doesn't mean it will pass. You simply learn to live with it.
Semen Povar's grave
The women advise contacting a psychologist, although as yet there are few in Ukraine who have the specialist skills to work in this area.
Information about them is shared in the community. Svitlana Povar says that in a situation of loss, you need to listen to yourself: "Your path still continues and you have to live on.
You shouldn't listen to other people, because there is a big sect of 'correct grieving'. Instead, women should listen to themselves." Tetiana Vatsenko-Bondarieva confirms that society's opinions and comments are sometimes very toxic and can derail you even more:
"Some of the girls hit back and say, 'I didn't ask for your advice,' and some don't have the strength to do that or don't have that kind of personality. But I am guided by the principle: don't care about anyone else. You are in pain, and this is your pain.
Other people will never understand it." Grief should be lived with someone who will try to share the pain, without devaluing it and without lecturing. Tatiana advises talking about loss gently with children.
Explain that their dad won't be around, but he will be defending and supporting them even from the other world. Sometimes you need to have time apart from the children if there is an opportunity to do so. "Scream, bang your head against the wall so that no one sees.
But it won't get easier right away.
40 days or three months: the pain will remain, it will just take root. Over time, grief will turn into a luminous longing, gratitude for the time that he was with you, gratitude for your children and your emotions," says Svitlana.
Farewell to Denys Bondarev
Natalia Horodetska advises doing something to distract yourself. "I started the project to redesign the cemetery so that fewer thoughts would come into my head.
The scariest thing is at night when you're falling asleep and you have time to think about what happened. This pain will never go away. We'll just learn to live with it.
Of course, the children keep you here, you do everything for their sake. You realise that now you are both mum and dad." Natalia's eldest daughter is having a hard time dealing with the loss of her father.
Natalia arranges trips for them to go on together so that she can give her child more attention during this difficult time. Oksana Borkun advises finishing all the things you planned to do with your husband. And also to seek out support.
"If you want to be alone, be alone. If you want support, look for it. It won't necessarily come from friends or the people around you.
Support can come from those from whom you don't expect it. If you have the strength, you should see a psychologist, it helps a little. During these times, it's worth visiting a church and praying a lot," Oksana adds.
In the first few months after her husband's death, Oksana used to thank him a lot. She tried to reconfigure the pain into a feeling of gratitude. And it helped.
The members of the community work hard to bring the wives of fallen soldiers together and support them. But most of all, they would like their number not to increase. This article was prepared by the Memorial platform, which tells the stories of civilians killed by Russia and fallen Ukrainian soldiers, especially for Ukrainska Pravda.
To report data on Ukraine's losses, fill out the forms: for dead military and civilian victims. Nataliia Patrikieieva Translation: Myroslava Zavadska, Olya Loza, Anton Strii
Editing: Teresa Pearce