Last bell at their graves: One year after a Russian missile strike killed three siblings in Zhytomyr Oblast

“He was thinking about how to pass the university entrance exams. He never did”

“We were in the middle of Divine Liturgy when we learned about the tragedy that morning. It was terrifying and painful. We could not even say the words of the prayer because the tears of grief were choking our breath,” Father Vitaliy said, standing at the cemetery.

He had just finished a memorial service at the large grave with three crosses. On May 28, 2025, Roman, Tamara, and Stanislav Martyniuk were buried there — three children from one family.

Overnight into May 25, 2025, they died in front of their father. The children’s parents were wounded.

Upon learning of the tragedy, Father Vitaliy and other priests went to the impact site to help clear the rubble. The house was completely destroyed, and missile fragments were scattered across the entire yard.

“The weather that day was also like this — it rained nonstop. There was such sadness. It felt as if the sky had simply opened and all the tears of our land poured down at once on that place to mourn the losses that happened there.”

Relatives, teachers, and classmates came to the grave for the anniversary. Many of them had also attended the funeral.

“This grave was almost entirely covered with soft toys on top. My son is a classmate. I picked him up in the evening, and we went to the place where the children died. We need to show children what war does and what its consequences are,” Father Vitaliy said.

After the memorial service, the students and teachers went to the school. Only the parents remained at the grave.

“He was thinking about how to pass the NMT (university entrance exams -ed.). He never did,” Olena Martyniuk sighed, speaking about her son Roman.

“Toma and Stasyk were A* students. Roma wanted to enter the polytechnic institute and submit an application. Toma wanted to become a teacher. Stasyk had not thought about anything yet,” Olena said.

“Stasyk was very kind. He would go feed the ants with sugar. He felt sympathy for everyone,” Ihor added.

Crutches stand by Olena’s feet. After her injury and surgery, the woman has still not recovered. The family has two older children. Fortunately, they were not home at the time of the attack.

"I felt like I was dying too"

Meanwhile, memorial events were underway in the schoolyard, where Roman, Tamara, and Stanislav were remembered. Students held flowers; some brought soft toys.

Paper angels hung on the trees, school boards, and stands. Elementary school students had cut them out in advance. In Stanislav’s classroom, flowers sat on his desk. Photos with him were on the blackboard. On the paper tree with students’ birthdays, his date was still there on a leaf.

“When the house [of Stanislav] was struck, I was on Facebook, and I saw a photo [from the impact site] with a goose in it. And I remembered how he told me that he got a toy goose for his birthday. I immediately thought that it was him. My heart almost stopped. It was really hard,” said fourth-grader Zakhar, Stanislav’s friend.

He said that for several nights after the tragedy, he saw his friend in his dreams as if Stanislav was alive and, as before, going to school.

“All these dreams were very hard for me to forget. And I had the feeling that I was dying too, not just him,” the boy added.

Even in September, several months after his friend’s death, Zakhar wrote him a birthday greeting, even though he knew the friend would not read it: “Just so I remember him.”

In the schoolyard, seventh-graders Sofia and Uliana sat on old tires half-buried in the ground. This is where they often gathered with Tamara — eating pizza and cheese puffs, talking about school and plans for the future.

“She wanted to become a math teacher because she liked it, and she loved the subject. And she wanted to finish music school, try to become a singer or play some instrument with artists,” Sofia recalled.

Tamara attended music school and played the domra. Later, she enrolled her younger brother Stanislav there too — and he was quite good at it.

“She told me that her father said she played the bandura. But she would say that it was not a bandura, it was a bit different,” Sofia smiled.

The music school also remembers its deceased students. During the latest graduation concert, they dedicated a requiem song to them.

Teachers and classmates also remember the oldest, Roman. Last year, the last bell for his class took place not at school but at the cemetery. Without music or festive speeches.

“This was a student who was very passionate about history, who loved finding facts and even entering into discussions with teachers. Roma planned to enroll and study, to change his life and the world around him. And he could have done it,” recalled Yulia Volodymyrivna, his former class teacher.

This year, his classmates plan to meet again and visit the cemetery.

“No one has forgotten. It is not like we graduated and forgot what happened. No, the memory lives and will definitely continue to live as long as we exist,” Yulia Volodymyrivna said.

The deceased will be remembered every year

Photographs of Roman, Tamara, and Stanislav hang on the Wall of Memory in the school corridor. Minutes of silence are observed here during school events. Trees were planted in their honor.

This year’s memorial assembly was proposed by the students themselves, according to school principal Serhiy Musiyenko. They also helped organize it — in particular, they put together a commemorative video from photos and footage of the deceased.

“Today is a memorial date. We will constantly mark it every year because we believe we must remember these children, as they are part of our school family,” the principal said.

Teacher-coordinator Maryna believes children need to be “gently reminded” about those killed in the war so as not to “injure the psyche,” while still preserving the memory of each one.

“Tamara’s classmates wrote to me yesterday and said they themselves agreed to wear black today, and it was their own position. We did not require it,” Maryna said.

Sofia and Uliana not only came in black but also helped organize and conduct the school assembly, and came to the cemetery that day to lay flowers.

“She will remain forever a bright person — cheerful, full of life, always smiling. She was our friend and will remain so forever,” Uliana said.

Sofia added, “We remember her and will not forget.”