Fly, Little Ukrainian: The Miracle That Didn’t Happen
The Russian war in Ukraine has reaped countless lives by now. One, however, has haunted me these last few days. One that I can’t forget.
It’s the life of an 11-year-old boy from Mykolayiv, who spent six hours under the ruins of his bombed-down house, and was rescued by the paramedics.
I will never forget his father's face, his expression when he realized that the rescuers were taking his son out alive. How he gently covered him with a ludicrous pink-and-white blanket, how he kissed his face. How his voice brimmed with hope and joy.
The boy saw a drone over in the sky and raised a hand, pointing to it. “Yes, drone, drone, see!” — the father joined in, happy. Then, the paramedics took the boy into a rescue van and drove off.
The whole of Ukraine had seen the video. The whole of Ukraine prayed for the boy from the story with a happy ending.
But the happy ending was not to be.
The boy died from cardiac arrest after he was brought to the hospital for dialysis. His little heart withstood six hours under the rubble, and gave up on the hospital machine.
I can’t even imagine how scared the little man must have been there, in the darkness, under the ruins of his home. How scared and how alone. How long until he heard the voices of the rescuers, the noise of people digging in? How long did he wait patiently, trying to follow the instructions from above as best he could? Then, a breath of fresh air, paramedics' faces, his father’s face, alight with joy, and the drone in a clear sky. The rush, the hospital rooms, the strange smells.
And then, eternity.
You fly now, little heart, little soul. You fly and be free of pain, fear, of hate.
We will now bear it all for you and all the other victims.
According to the data from October 22, 2022, Russia killed 430 Ukrainian children, and injured 818, from the beginning of the war. This data is by no means complete since the information from the occupied territories can’t be received. So, there are probably many more. Why, then, does this one death hurt so much?
Because it was a miracle that didn’t happen.
A life that wasn’t saved, a family that could stay unbroken but didn’t. Death does not just take the one who died, as everyone who has experienced such a loss well knows. Many other lives will never be the same again. This happens even when a person has lived a long and full life and died a natural death. The pain haunts the living, transforms their lives, and damages their souls. It follows their footsteps and whispers in their ears and feeds upon the traces of their tears. But the acutest pain that can ever be is for the parent to bury a child. This is so unnatural, so against what we expect life to be, that we don’t know how even to begin to cope.
I don’t know who and where that boy’s mother is because the video has only shown the father, but I assume there is a mother. I don’t know if they have any other children, but would it lessen the pain even if they did?
I think not.
Russian missiles destroyed or damaged 40% of Ukrainian power plants in the last few days. They couldn’t win a war on the battlefield, so they’re trying to destroy the land they can’t take with the people inhabiting it. I remember how I was a student in Ukraine in the nineties, during the power cuts and blackouts the country had to go through on its long way to independence. The hot water and the electricity were cut off on a schedule, 2–3 hours per day. It was best when our blackouts happened in the morning because we were at the university anyway. Otherwise, we went home to read at the candlelight and try to warm ourselves by shutting the kitchen doors and warming the kettle on a gas stove. We were lucky; our apartment block had gas stoves, not electrical ones. But we were eighteen years old and healthy; this whole period was an adventure, and we knew it would be over at some point.
The boy from Mykolayiv will not experience it, but his parents are probably in for a cold winter. I bet it’s the last thing on their mind, though, with the enormity of their loss. I can’t help thinking that yesterday it was nine days after the death of their son. Ukrainian people usually keep a wake right after the funeral, and then the 9th and the 40th day after the death are also remembrance days; they’re considered to have some special significance, so some rituals should be observed. I always hated these traditions because I couldn’t understand why people who have just experienced a significant loss should engage in organizing some events and greet and feed other people when what they probably want most is to stay hidden somewhere in the dark corner with their grief. And is it even possible to observe all these traditions in the country consumed by war? That I do not know.
What I do know, however, is that they will never forget this.
The Russians are sowing death and destruction, but they will reap pain and hate.
And I, for one, don’t even have it in me to regret this.
