The rescuer who found the bodies of Volodymyr Obodzynskyi’s grandchildren could not speak for a day after that.

At the age of 42, Volodymyr lost his wife, daughter, son and his little twin grandchildren. The babies were a little over a year old. A Russian aircraft dropped two half-ton aerial bombs in the yard of the house where the Obodzynskyi family lived.

Volodymyr himself was at work in Kyiv at the time of the bombing. On the morning of 24 February 2022, the man left for his work shift. He stayed in contact with his family all the days. In the evening of 8 March, his wife and children stopped answering his phone calls.

 Two air bombs came in from some russian bastards (I don’t want to use curse language). One landed at the corner of the house and the other bomb landed in the garden behind the garage. And three generations died here. I am the only one left.

The attack killed my wife Natalya Obodzynska, who was 40 years old, and my son Volodymyr Volodymyrovych Obodzynskyi. Everyone used to laugh at us as his name is Volodymyr Volodymyrovych (patronymic) and I am Volodymyr Volodymyrovych too. He was born on 28 July, on Volodymyr’s Day. He would have been 15 years old this year. The bombs also killed my daughter Ivanna Obodzynska, and Nicole Daineko and Denys Daineko [grandchildren].

Only our cat, our dog and I are left from our family.

The dog ran back home on the second day after the explosion, right at the time when I came. I took it to my parents, but I couldn’t find the cat for a long time. And when I found it, it refused to come close and be held in the arms. We built this house in the course of 10 years. It had three bedrooms. One of the air bombs landed right near my son’s bedroom. It was on 8 March, at around 21:00 o’clock.

My friend called me and asked, “Vova [short for Volodymyr], how are you there?” He then said, “Something exploded on the side of your house.” I called my wife but her phone was out of range. Well, she had a habit of putting her phone aside somewhere. She was a teacher of the Ukrainian language. She did not answer, so I dialled my son and he did not pick up either. I called my daughter – her phone was disconnected. I called my dad and asked him to go there. I also called my friend and said, “Run there.”

Then my father called me back and said, “Son, there is no one left alive and there is no house, only the foundation has left.” My grandchildren were found where the train is humming now, where those trees are.”

They were not found immediately. The rescuers (Emergency Service officers) said that they could not [come] immediately... Because there could be another attack. They were walking around and looking with flashlights. The Emergency Service officer/rescuer who found [the bodies], could not speak for a day.

We had a tradition that I always gave them flowers on 8 March [Women’s Day], even if I was at work. I asked a friend to help, or passed with a taxi driver... They bought flowers, brought and presented them. My wife said then that everyone was fleeing the war while my husband went to Kyiv. We stayed in touch by phone. It was the first 8 March when I did not congratulate them.

They were buried in closed coffins. Only my son could be buried in a coffin that we could open before the burial.

If you look from this side, you can see this sign that was made and brought by grateful students... She was a cheerful person. She also worked as a wedding attendant. I was such a madcap in my youth... If somebody from my friends had told me that my wife would be a teacher, I wouldn’t have believed it. My son wanted to go to a college after nine years of school. I said, “No, you will continue the 10th and 11th grades of school.” He was really looking forward to the graduation. I bought him a graduation ribbon for 25 May. It had an inscription saying “the Graduation Day”.

My daughter graduated from college. On 11 January 2021, she became a young mother. When I came back home from work, I was usually given one day off to have some proper sleep, and then I was babysitting with the kids so that she could have some rest. I was with the kids then, when I received a text message from the teacher saying that we should not go to school. I checked my phone and found out that the war began.

I last saw my grandchildren on the morning of 24 February. Then I was called to my work, and I left. On 5 March I had my birthday. They said, “Everyone is fleeing the war, but you are going to where the war is.” And it so happened that the next time I went to Malyn was for their funerals.

No one is eternal, and my time will come too – a place [at the cemetery] has already been prepared for me. But the memory must remain so that generations could know. Centuries will pass, but the memory of what the “russian world” is should stay. They are not worth even any curse words. Generations and centuries will pass but people should know what the “russian world” is and whom it “helped” in this life.