A cemetery for the victims of a single Russian airstrike.
Vlad said:
“The missile hit the cafe in our village.”
He said, all our family were killed.
Including his mother.
No one survived.
One of the deadliest Russian attacks since the start of this war.
59 dead. All civilians.
The pain will never go away.
We had four coffins in our house.
I didn’t know which one to go first.
It was horrible.
I feel sorry for our youngest, Nastya.
Before, she didn't like me hugging her.
Now she wants to cuddle all the time.
Every family in Hroza village lost someone.
And 14 children here became orphans.
I called my daughter.
Her phone was still ringing.
But then it stopped.
It had melted.
Last October, a Russian missile struck here.
Villages had gathered for a funeral wake
of local men killed in the war.
Moments later, they themselves became a target.
36 women, 22 men
and an 8 year old boy were killed.
I’m trying not to look at it.
This is a very scary place.
You know, that your children are here.
Their death is here.
Valentyna lost most of her family in the attack.
Her husband, Anatoly, her daughter, Olha
her son Ihor,
and the youngest victim, her 8 year old grandson, Ivan.
The only other survivor is her grandson, Vlad, orphaned at the age of 14.
Valentyna sent him to the west of Ukraine, away from the Russian airstrikes.
She is now completing paperwork to adopt him.
Like many other villages, she refused
to put her grandson in an orphanage.
Yes, I know it's dangerous to travel.
But for a brief visit it’s OK.
I can’t leave behind our cat Stepan.
Yes, the cat, the dogs, and the house.
I miss you very, very much.
Me too.
An emotional video call replaces a hug.
Grandmother and grandson,
each other's only remaining family.
This is what the war has done to them.
How can we abandon our children?
How could I abandon my dear Vlad?
I can’t live without him.
The more time goes by, the worse I feel.
I feel scared.
I have no one to talk to.
It’s devastatingly hard.
Before the missile attack,
268 people lived in this village.
Now many houses are empty.
Like other Ukrainian towns and villages close to the frontline,
Hroza is full of stories of destroyed lives.
Many people left Hroza at the start of the war,
when the Russian forces occupied the village.
It was liberated in September 2022.
The attack on the funeral
in October 2023 was devastating
and the families are still grieving.
It’s horrible.
You walk across the village and meet nobody.
Not a single person.
Valeriy lost four family members in the strike.
His daughter Olga, was 37.
His son in law, Anatoliy, 42.
Anatoliy’s parents were also at the funeral and were killed.
She was conscious when she died.
She said: "I want to live so much.”
It’s awful.
After it happened my wife and I couldn’t eat for five days.
I just sipped a bit of tea.
It was horrible. I couldn't take it. There was crying and bustling around.
For ten days we had non-stop funerals.
It was horrible.
A nightmare.
Valeriy had retired since before the war.
Now he's working two jobs to provide for his daughters’ orphans.
He has become the adoptive father.
I have to do chores in the house.
When I’m home, memories come.
But when I’m out with my friends I forget everything.
He still doesn’t understand it all.
It seems to him that parents have gone away on a trip.
As long as you are alive, you should have hope.
My job is to guide my grandchildren in the right direction.
They shouldn’t feel shocked and desperate
as if everything is lost.
They need to have their own goal and I'm helping them with that.
Having hope is easier said than done.
This is what it looks like not far from Hroza village
as Russia continues airstrikes.
The nearby city of Kharkiv,
Ukraine's second largest, is under daily missile attacks.
UN figures show this year alone, at least 79 missiles
hit residential buildings with civilians killed and injured.
A missile attack in early February killed at least seven people in Kharkiv,
including a family with three young children.
Russia denies targeting civilians.
Heavy snow covered Hroza overnight
and many here fear there is a high chance
the war will soon get much closer.
Around 30 kilometres from the front line
leaves little room for safety.
There is an emptiness which is not natural.
From time to time, it's broken by the explosions in the nearby frontline.
The future is uncertain, but the unbreakable bond of family is clear for all to see.
The war continues,
making it hard for Valentyna to recover from her loss.
Living alone,
she, like, so many Ukrainians, continues to carry her pain.