This story contains descriptions of attacks during armed conflict, including descriptions of the people who were killed. We published these details to bear witness to this family’s experience.
On 24 February 2022, Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine. For millions of families across the country, this moment marked the beginning of an ongoing nightmare.
To mark the three-year anniversary, Olga Padey recounts the tragic loss of her niece Anastasia, a passionate gymnast, and nephew Maksym, a young karate champion. They were both killed, along with their mother, when their home was hit by a Russian missile in Kyiv, far from the front lines.
Hundreds of thousands of Ukrainians have been killed or injured since the beginning of the full-scale invasion. Amnesty International has been documenting stories of dozens of families who have lost their loved ones due to Russian aggression.
My brother, Vasya, lost his entire family: his wife and two children, my niece and nephew. On 8 July 2024, a Russian missile struck their residential building near downtown Kyiv. My brother was on a work trip, so he survived. However, my brother’s life ended as well. He visits the cemetery where his children and wife are buried every day – morning and evening. Now, the house where they lived has been rebuilt, but he would never return there. He lives in the countryside.
I asked him – should I talk about what happened? Is it important for people to hear this? We understand it won’t bring our loved ones back. But he said, “Yes.” Let there be a memory. Let it be a drop in the sea. A thread to the shirt. A memory, a memory… A memory of them.
My nephew Maksym was 10 years old. He was a long-awaited and loved child. My husband was his godfather. Maksym loved karate – he was a champion. He went fishing with his father a lot, he was his father’s son. Our little Anastasia, Nastya, was eight. She was always cuddling up to her mom, loved rhythmic gymnastics and dreamed of becoming a blogger. “I’ll show you all,” she would promise. Zoryana, my brother’s wife, was tranquil and neat. At their home, everything was always cleaned, cooked, done; I was always amazed at how she managed to do it all. There was never a moment when she just sat and did nothing; she always found something to do.
The basement wouldn’t have saved them
I have many photos and videos where they are laughing, talking, running. Those are happy memories of a happy family. But no matter how hard I try to remember only the good, I find myself remembering – every day – the destroyed building. That image. Maybe one day I will forget?
The basement wouldn’t have saved them, because it collapsed. It was completely destroyed
Olga Padey
Zoryana, my brother’s wife, was afraid of rockets. She was scared. I know they usually went down to the basement during air raids. This time, they didn’t. But the basement wouldn’t have saved them, because it collapsed. It was completely destroyed. It would have taken a long time to search for them if they had gone down there. Instead, they hid in the bathroom, following the two walls rule. They lived on the second floor, where the rocket hit and exploded.
It was an ordinary day. I spoke to my brother in the morning; he said he had left home for work. We talked for about 10 minutes. Later that day, the sirens started, there were explosions as Russians struck a children’s hospital. Then my brother phoned me once more. I thought, “Damn, we just talked this morning, and now he’s calling again.”
He said, “Part of the building collapsed, Zoryana and the kids were home, they were at home, probably at home.” I told my husband, we quickly woke up our child, and went there. When we arrived, the State Emergency Service was searching for people in the rubble. Then the sirens went off again, and the work was paused.
The bodies were found the same day
We stayed by the building all the time. No one answered their phone. I tried to find out whether they had been taken to the hospital, if they were already found, I called different hospitals.
The bodies were found that same day. The first responders carried out a girl. I thought she was a bit older than my niece, and she had a strand of purple hair. I said, “This is not Nastya.” Nastya is somewhere alive, everything’s fine! But that was Nastya. The day before, they had gone to the hairdresser. Maksym had a haircut, and Nastya made a strand of purple hair. We didn’t know that. When they asked me to identity Maksym, I didn’t recognize him. He had a new haircut, and he had no face.
At that time, my brother was returning to Kyiv from another city. When he arrived, Zoryana had been found. She had no head.
There is no safe place
I found out I was going to have a child during the first year of the full-scale war. I had been waiting to be a mother for so long. I wanted it so much. And it is only thanks to my child that I am holding on. Every day I think about Zoryana, about Maksym and Nastya, about my brother. I think about families, like the family where the father lost his wife and three daughters in Lviv. Or the family in Kharkiv, where the mother and three children were killed.
In Ukraine, there is no safe place right now. So many people are dying. But for me, it’s such a shock every time… I have hope that justice will be served. That there will be responsibility for all those who give the orders. And for those who directly carry those orders out. When will that happen? I hope it’s soon.