Sophia’s father, 60-year-old Sergius Lushcha, is near her, the figure that shares her loss and sadness. “We often visit the cemetery,” says Julia, “and we will live as long as we live because it really makes it a little simple for us.”
Each time they come, more graves are stretched away. The cemetery expands “at a stunning pace”, – says Julia. The lines of blue and yellow flags that mark the graves of the dead soldiers punch the gloomy gray sky.
Zaporizhzhia, where the family lived, is the usual goal for Russian forces. It is a strategically important industrial city near the frontline fighting. The largest nuclear power plant in Europe – about 55 km (34 miles) from the city – the Russians are held.
On the day of the attack, who killed Sofia, Tetian and Adam, Julia called her daughter from Western Ukraine, where she was on a working trip.
“I told her to be careful. The bombs fell over the city in the morning. She said,” Thank you mom, don’t worry. Everything will be fine with us. “
Sergius was at work when he heard something happened. He also called his daughter, but there was no answer.
Then in the WhatsApp group his locals he saw the message: “Friends who remain under the rubble?”
“I rushed home, praying all the way,” he says, “but my prayers were already in vain.”
“When I arrived, all I saw were the ruins. I wandered, looking for my balcony. I don’t know how much time it took – two or two hours – and I realized that there was nothing left and no hope for salvation.”
