Ukrainian mother: 'My son was taken away by war. Now I am everyone's 'mother''

We often imagine hope as a light thought, a dream of a better future. But in contexts of deep pain, hope takes on a more radical meaning: it becomes life itself, the conscious decision to continue living despite everything. And pain does not turn into despair when shared with another human being.

For Lyubov, mother of a Ukrainian soldier fallen at the front, hope arises even before her decision to participate in a rehabilitation project. Its roots lie in the heart of her son. 

Every hug to a soldier returned from the front, every package of food prepared with love, every word of support to a family affected by the war, is a seed of hope that blooms.

In these daily acts, memory and love intertwine, transforming pain into shared life and into an invisible thread that continues to connect those who remain and those who have fought.

“Sashunia”—so, with this tender nickname, Lyubov continues to call her son Oleksandr Tymchenko, who on February 28, 2024, fell at the front defending his country. He was 29 years old.

“It’s so hard,” the woman tells Vatican media, “but I try not to close myself off, I try to be useful to others. We are not eternal, and I want the memory of him to remain bright, dignified, and honorable after we are gone.”

Before the war, Oleksandr had not done mandatory military service in Ukraine because he had obtained a seven-year exemption after his older brother tragically died at 27.

He was studying at the Vinnytsia Agrarian University, where he earned a bachelor’s degree. He had wanted to continue his studies, but after his brother’s death, he decided to take a break and began working with his father on the combine harvester.

“He loved the fields,” his mother recalls, “harvesting wheat and corn. He cared for the little rabbits, so as not to hurt them during the harvest. He loved nature, fishing. He was a boy of great kindness.”