In a quiet village in northwestern Ukraine, far from the frontline and the thunder of shelling, the war still echoes in the hearts of those left behind. It’s a village of just 150 people—seemingly peaceful, yet hollowed by absence. Like many across Ukraine, it has been drained of its men, sent to the front. And some will never return.
Vadym, a construction worker who left for war in the early days of the full-scale invasion, was the first and only soldier from this village to die in combat. His widow keeps his jacket untouched, even a year later, still carrying his scent—a tangible connection to the man lost to war. "Sometimes I press it to my face when it hurts the most," she says softly. "It makes it feel a bit more bearable."
She isn't alone in her grief, but often feels isolated. “People avoid me. I feel like a burden,” she confesses. “They fear I’ll ask for help. I don’t blame them. They just don’t understand.”
💸 A Price on Sacrifice
The Ukrainian government offers compensation to the families of fallen soldiers—around 15 million hryvnias (approximately €350,000). It's a large sum in a country where the average monthly salary is less than €400. Yet no amount can fill the void.
Some neighbors assume that those who receive the payments are now “rich” and expect them to share. “They think I got the money, so now I should give back—fix a roof, build a house. But I’d give anything to have my husband back instead,” she says.
🧍♀️ A Country Tired of Grief
With conscription age lowered from 27 to 25 in early 2025 and stricter mobilization underway, Ukraine is struggling to sustain its defense. But back home, the emotional cost grows heavier each day.
Society, exhausted by war, struggles to understand the women carrying invisible wounds. “People don’t want to hear about our pain anymore,” one widow says. “Even family members stop calling. They think time has passed. But grief doesn’t follow a schedule.”
Some widows are left with children, evicted from homes, or cast aside by in-laws. Many are forced to navigate paperwork and trauma alone just to receive their husbands’ military status or burial confirmation.
💔 Healing Together: A Sisterhood of Loss
Among those trying to make a difference is Oxana, a war widow who founded a Facebook support group for women who’ve lost partners in combat. In just a year, the group has grown to nearly 4,000 members.
“We don’t give answers,” she says. “Sometimes there aren’t any. But we teach women to be okay with crying. To know they are not broken.”
In a remote center run by Catholic volunteers, widows gather to talk, grieve, and begin healing. They hold each other—literally and emotionally—in circles of solidarity. For many, this community has become a second family.
“We call ourselves ‘sisters now,’ like our husbands were brothers in arms,” says Yaryna, whose fiancé was killed. “There’s no need for words anymore. We just know when someone needs a hug.”
📸 Portraits of Pain and Resilience
Some women have chosen to mark their recovery with photo sessions—part therapy, part testimony. One widow, Anastasia, speaks for the first time after losing both her husband and, later, her son—both soldiers.
“I feel like I didn’t get to live everything with him,” she says. “That was our whole life ahead of us. And now it’s gone.”
Still, she continues to work as a lawyer. She says, “I thought the war was over for me when he died. But now I believe his death must mean something. It can’t be for nothing.”
🛰️ Choosing to Fight
Not all widows retreat from the frontlines of life. Some step forward. Yaryna Shuman, now a drone pilot, joined the military after losing her father, cousin, and fiancé in combat. She speaks with fierce conviction:
“If you want to live in this country, you must fight for it. If you stay a civilian, then do your part. But if not—maybe it’s better you leave.”
⚰️ The Final March
At a military cemetery in Kyiv, mourners watch another coffin pass through the alley of heroes. Andriy Liany, killed while rescuing comrades on the front, leaves behind a widow and children.
His photo joins the hundreds on memorial walls. So many faces. So many losses. And still more waiting for government recognition, as procedures delay official death notices for soldiers killed in action.
“Each delay is another wound,” one woman says. “You’re grieving and trying to prove your husband is gone. It's unbearable.”
🕯️ More Than Statistics
As of February 2025, the Ukrainian government confirmed the deaths of 31,000 soldiers. But there is no official count of war widows.
“They call us ‘widows,’ but we’re also mothers, sisters, friends,” says Yaroslava. “This is not just our grief—it’s a fight to stay alive in a society that doesn't know how to hold us anymore.”