For my Grandma this is already the second war. When the first one ended she was 15. When this one ends, hopefully she will be still 91. On the 24th of February when I called her to tell that the full-scale war had broken out, she started neither crying nor lamenting. She was calm and organized.

She said: «Take care of yourself and all the family. Everything will be fine with me. I will do what other people do.»

She rejected all the options for departure and evacuation. She said, «This is my home, and I will stay in it till the end. No one will drive me out of my land.»

She does not change her mind. She is 91. She has the right to that. I accepted her decision — and I worry for her every second of my life.

The first week I was telling her: «It will be over soon, granny. It can’t last for long. Just wait a little bit and I will come to see you. Everything will be fine.» — «Oksana, baby, this will last long, be patient, I know what I am talking about.»

Grandma still knows what she’s talking about. And she says: «This one is worse than Hitler, Oksanochka, worse than Hitler. How can that be?»

Grandma told me, «Don't worry, I won’t get sick till the war is over.»

In my grandmother’s village and in nearby villages there is no medication since the beginning of the war. Neither for pressure, nor for cancer, nor for diabetes. Grandma has been keeping her promise for 28 days. Her neighbor has cancer. She can neither give such promises nor keep them.

Then my Grandma asks: «Can you find that medicine?» — I can find it. It is more difficult to transfer the pills to the sick woman. But sometimes everything goes well and the drugs are on the way. It is a victory and a miracle for that woman. But how many miracles will not happen! I talk to my Grandma three times a day. We have our own schedule. I heard explosions in the background of our conversations. Grandma also heard them and the shots. The last days have been quiet.

She told me: «Today I cooked cabbage again. I can still eat it. God forbid, I won’t eat it for long.»

«What are you saying, Grandma,» I interrupted. «Well, you can’t stand it,» she says. «When you come, I won’t cook it any more.»

I think: «I'll come, Grandma, and we’ll eat only crucian carp and stuffing, stuffing and crucian carp.»

My grandmother went to the funeral a few days ago. It was a 20 year-old boy. A student. She had known him since his birth.

«He was so handsome, so bright.», she says.

«Chernihiv. He did not have time to get out. He was hiding in a bomb shelter all the days. And then he went out with a friend to look for some food and he was killed. «she tells me…

What can you say here…

War. I hate it.

Oksana, Lviv

Translation: Vita Zhuravel