aiIt was snowing.
aiI fell on my knee
aiAnd kissed the hand
aiOf the Mother
aiFor her Son.
aiSnow was falling on us.
aiOr God himself
aiCried with us.

aiI noticed them from the window of my car in the parking lot. If my attention hadn't been drawn to them, I would never have recognized this elderly couple who I know well. Holding hands, they walked with small steps very slowly to their car. The man was hunched over and limping...

aiWe first met in the summer of 2022 at a German language course. They, like me, were refugees who fled the constant shelling by the Russians. At the beginning of 2022, the Russian troops had not yet stopped trying to occupy Odesa, and since their son had joined the Ukrainian Armed Forces, the family risked being “in the cellar ”* if the city became occupied.

aiBeing in an unknown country, in a state of shock, fear, and uncertainty, we supported each other a lot: we went to buy food or medicine if someone was sick, helped each other with clothes we received from humanitarian aid, and told each other our stories.

aiThey loved to share news about their son, who was defending us in the ranks of the GUR (Main Intelligence Service). They showed me photos of a bearded man in a group of his comrades smiling sincerely... “Mom, I'm fine...” she had said, reading his text messages.

aiTogether we rejoiced at each of his awards, of which they were so proud... At one point, he had contusions and the opportunity to demobilize, but he rejected this saying: “Mom, how can I leave my comrades?”

aiHe was killed in the enemy's rear the day after this Christmas. His comrades took the body out so his mother and father could say a last goodbye to him... so he could come home.

aiI rushed out and ran to them. I hugged them tightly.
aiI had no words at that moment because the pain was indescribable. No words can convey the depth of the feeling.

aiThey stood there, tears streaming down their pale, aged faces... She again, with love and tenderness, told me about her son and his heroic deeds, which his comrades had told her about.

aiI felt the power of their love for him. And I couldn't resist - for the first time in my life, I knelt down** right in the snow in front of her, and I put her hand to my forehead. They tried to lift me up, but I kept on thanking her for her son – for the defender and genuine person she gave birth to and raised...

ai______________
ai
aiWhen I was a child, during the Soviet era, I often went to the memorial to those who died in World War II. I walked along the central alley, right to the Mother-Motherland monument, and the closer I got, the more audible her heartbeat became (sound animation). The Mother's face showed grief and tension, her hands were clasped, and her eyes looked into the far distance as though she was trying to see her children who had not returned from the war...

aiFor me, it has always been a powerful, penetrating moment to look at this monument, experiencing the global tragedy of war and personal loss.
ai
aiNow, observing the same tragedy around me, I can imagine the louder sound of the Mother's heart – I see how the parents are also dying together with their children. At first, not physically.

ai
ai______________
ai
ai* When occupying a city, the Russian FSB takes members of the Ukrainian Armed Forces, their relatives, and pro-Ukrainian citizens to torture chambers, often until death. As a rule, these torture chambers are located in the cellars of buildings - that is why the term “take to the cellar” is used.