I was killed, but I forgot to die: The life of a waiting family

If you are searching for a missing family member in relation to the Russia-Ukraine international armed conflict and would like to open a tracing request, please see this webpage.

Olena* lives in Kharkiv, raises two teenage sons, and works in the humanitarian sector. For her family, this city is temporary; their home is in Kupiansk, a city on the front line. Her husband Serhii is officially considered missing in action.

When asked, “How are you?” Olena has only one answer:

It's like I've been killed, but I forgot to die.

Olena's story is one of thousands of stories of families who today live in uncertainty, searching for their loved ones who went missing during the hostilities.

The international armed conflict between the Russian Federation and Ukraine has brought suffering to millions of people, destroying not only cities and homes, but also human lives. For Olena, as for many other families, life has been divided into the before and the after.

But everything used to be different.

Before 2022

Olena lived with her family in Kupiansk, in the east of Kharkiv Region. Today, it is known in the news as a hotbed of heavy hostilities, but it was once a large industrial centre on the banks of the Oskil River.

Olena and Serhii met through work. Both are teachers by profession and vocation, working with children in their respective fields. They met at a children's summer camp. They started getting to know each other and soon realised that it was more than just an acquaintance.

“One day, he called me after Teacher's Day. For some reason, I was so happy to hear from him, as if I had known him for a thousand years, even though we were just colleagues,” Olena recalls.

“One day, he just said: ‘You know, I don’t need anyone else. I want you to be my wife.’”

Almost 20 years ago, Olena and Serhii had a small wedding. They raised two sons. The couple worked at a local school: she worked in social services, while he worked in sports, training future champions.

Olena is very proud of her husband, his dedication to his work and his love for his sons and students.

“My loving husband became the first coach of a European athletics champion. His contribution to this gold medal is enormous, because the path to a championship often begins with the person who first believed in the future athlete,” says Olena.

“Once, Serhii told us how another of his students managed to swim on his own during just his second training session. The boy’s father was as happy as if his son had won a competition, and the grandmother cried tears of joy. The victories of the teams he coached were always a celebration for our family as well.”

Back then, life seemed simple and clear. 

“He taught me to love myself,” Olena shares. She cherishes every memory of their days together as her greatest treasure: Serhii’s championships, their children’s achievements, their students’ victories, even the small arguments that were always followed by reconciliation. They shared many happy moments together: “Everything we went through is one beautiful story that deserves to continue.”

After 2022

In 2022, the family was forced to leave Kupiansk and seek refuge in another city. They left in a hurry, not knowing if they would ever return.

“We left Kupiansk with only our documents, almost no belongings, but with all of my husband’s awards,” recalls Olena.

Soon, Serhii made a decision that became another turning point for the family.

“He simply told me that he was joining the Armed Forces because his children should not have to die in this war,” Olena says.

She is proud of his decision and his bravery. But alongside her pride, there is another feeling. “Even with the support of my loved ones, I remain trapped in the illusion that I could have changed something. My inner self-criticism is stronger than any logical reasoning.”

Olena vividly remembers Serhii’s words when he left to join the army. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back, and everything will be fine.”

Today, that promise is almost the only thread that still connects her to reality.

Serhii went missing during a combat mission in March 2023. He was supposed to call after returning from his position. The call never came. She tried calling him herself, but his phone was unreachable. She wrote to his comrades and the military unit: “I needed any kind of truth.”

Later, she received a brief message: “They told me that Serhii was missing [in action].”

Olena describes the last 36 months of her life as if she were constantly standing on the edge of an abyss. Her life has turned into a relentless journey between various institutions and organizations: the military enlistment office, the police, the Coordination Headquarters for Treatment of Prisoners of War, the National Information Bureau, the International Committee of the Red Cross, and others. Letters, appeals, calls and trips to other cities for personal meetings have become her new reality.

She did everything she could to keep searching. “I went everywhere I could, everywhere I was advised to go, everywhere I was directed,” says Olena, “But there is no information about my husband.”

Olena quit her job. It became mentally and physically impossible to combine everyday life with the constant search. “It would be much easier if there were a single institution that would help coordinate all these processes and communicate with the families of the missing. The amount of work currently placed on families is so exhausting that there are simply not enough resources for additional concerns,” says Olena.

After Serhii went missing, she received his belongings: clothes and his personal phone. Along with them came silence, which still has no answer. Olena cherishes the hope that Serhiy will return, even though he is officially considered missing in action. She keeps her husband's phone close by at all times. “Serhii may forget my number, but he will never forget his own. I am waiting for his call.” Olena also continues to send him messages on his phone: “When he comes back, he will read them.”

Sometimes she sees unknown phone numbers on a smartphone screen, making it a challenge. “When the news feeds are ‘screaming’ about thousands of bodies of the dead being returned, every call from an unknown number is frightening. At first, I freeze with fear, because picking up the phone at such moments is like looking into an abyss.”

Olena recently got a job at a humanitarian organization to help her take her mind off things. Work helps her cope, but her biggest support today is her sons. “We live with the belief that our dad is alive and will return. We have no other options.”

Olena feels every shade of her children’s pain as they wait for their father. She is certain that children’s suffering runs much deeper than that of adults, even if it is hidden behind silence. In her opinion, teenagers are the most vulnerable right now. Instead of experiencing a peaceful transition into adulthood, they are fighting an exhausting internal battle every single day. The family carefully discusses different scenarios: “We slowly talk through all these possibilities, reminding ourselves that we need to be prepared for anything.” But hope remains a part of their daily lives. “We don’t forget about him for a single day. We have no right to forget.”

Olena shares how one day her son asked her what she would do when she saw Serhii again.

She falls silent for a moment. In that brief pause lies almost three long years of waiting. And then she says:

“I only pray to God to give me the strength not to faint from happiness when I see him.”

In their home, they are still waiting for his call.

*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the family.