My son Volodymyr was killed in an attack in November 2014. I cried for a year. I still can't go to the living room in the house. I remember it every day.

A month before his death, Volodymyr turned 40 years old. He was a miner who took care of his wife and two children. Now they are left without a breadwinner. When there was a direct hit to the house, they were also injured. For a year, the children slept undressed. There were many shootings.

We, the old people, can only support each other. Of course, we are afraid that there will be no one to bury us. Our grandchildren are still young, and we can hardly live so long for them to grow up.