(short story based on real facts)

One airless August day, Svetlana, a friendly Ukrainian woman in her late forties, who came from Kherson to Lviv as a refugee together with all her four children, scrolled her e-mail messages and noticed a delayed letter from her husband killed at a Russian checkpoint three months ago.

At first, her heart jumped to the throat, then it tumbled down to her heels…She had already poured out all her tears…Though, as it turned out — not all of them…After getting a grip, she clicked on the letter and got the last message from her hubby-buddy, Andrei…

“Morning, my sweetheart!

If you read this letter, I`ve passed away…my dear. I felt it at the beginning of May when I carried medicine and food from Odessa to Kyiv. Suddenly, I got the metallic smack on my teeth and a flash in my mind that it was one of my last volunteer trips. I felt the breath of death…I would be happy to get mistaken; however, my intuition never let me down…unfortunately.

On the one hand, I feel that my volunteer trips should be stopped; they become more and more dangerous. A couple of days ago, I saw a crashed car riddled with bullets having dead refugees inside. The family had just left Kherson to save their lives in Mykolaiv or Odessa…

On the other hand, I just can`t stop helping people wanting to leave the war-torn city and to get humanitarian aid in Kherson…The eyes of mothers and their kids, full of imploration, hope and tears, flash forever before my mental vision…maybe, it is my destiny.

So, Svetlana take care of our children, go to a safe place and remember me as I was…

Goodbye, I always loved you.

Andrei.”

Svetlana went to the corner sofa and fell on it like a logged tree. Her whole life rolled like a film chronicle before her eyes.

She met Andrei, a happy-zappy young Russian man from Khabarovsk, when he was 25 years old. To her surprise, their sparkling holiday romance at one of the best Crimean sea beaches got a sudden continuation.  Andrei, a hilarious bear-looking man, found her Kherson apartment and brought her a huge bunch or roses offering to get married, “Immediately!”

Svetlana did not hesitate a lot, “I agree…on one condition. We will live and bring up our kids in Kherson.”

Andrei had nothing against, deciding not to change his Russian citizenship. The family life of Svetlana and Andrei whirled like a kaleidoscope of exciting events flashing in various parts of Ukraine and Europe, Asia and Australia. Her husband had guts and a ball of fire somewhere inside of his body, launching several successful business projects, selling and buying goods with a good profit: Swedish and German cars, American and Chinese software, Kherson agricultural products and…a lot of other luxury and not so luxury commodities. However, he did not forget to get out of his up-to-ears business life to travel to various world resorts together with all his children and his lovely wife…

Sometimes, it was unclear how he managed to keep pace with all his business- family-and-friends schedules, trips and events… His three daughters just adored him; his son respected him too…

Besides, he had a lot of hobbies, among which kitesurfing, with all its paragliding and skateboarding tricks, was the biggest one. It was because of kitesurfing when he broke his knee and went to Kyiv surgery just before the beginning of the Russian-Ukrainian war…

He was a great-souled man and went to Kherson to help his family and friends, forgetting about his injured knee, on February 24, 2022.

A pessimistic picture twinkled in Svetlanas head with Andrei sitting at their round kitchen table squeezing his head with the heavy hands, “I even dont know how I should deal with Russian soldiers from Khabarovsk, when I was born in Khabarovsk too…” After drinking a glass of horilka, he added, “As one of my friends from Mariupol said three years ago, “One of the paradoxes of this war is that I am a Russian man  who goes to dig trenches to protect the Russian speaking city from the Russian army…” Svetlana pulled the alcohol bottle out of the hands of Andrei, “You are to remember that Kherson is a part of Ukraine, your wife is Ukrainian, your children are Ukrainians, your friends are Ukrainians too. We did not invite them — they came to take our lands. You are to protect all of us, and that is your duty.”

Andrei nodded his head and went to sleep without saying a word. Next day, as a volunteer, he went to Chornobaivka poultry farm, passing numerous Russian checkpoints, and brought back several minibuses full of chicken meat to his Kherson compatriots. One week after, he brought a milk carrier truck full of fresh milk to the local butter plant to make milk products for those civilians stayed in Kherson…

After that there were dozens of refugees transported from the wounded city with people vanishing day in and day out; there were tons of humanitarian aid, with many packs of insulin and other medicine so necessary for civil people in Kherson…

When other cars and minibuses of volunteers were blocked at Russian checkpoints, Andrei passed by…

When others could not bring people out of Kherson, Andrei brought them out…

When others could not help, Andrei could…

His last trip was at the end of May; he took a Ukrainian woman with two kids and drove them to Odessa. At the last Russian block post he gave a cigarette box to be permitted to evacuate civilians…He was permitted, though in a while a sniper`s bullet struck his head…

Later, the people from that column of cars remembered that they heard the wintry voice from that block post, “He chose his way…”

P.S. The short story is devoted to Anton Kushnir, a big-heat volunteer from Kherson, who died on May 16, 2023.