‘I don't write letters to my dead son’. How one father handles loss of his son

He is 56, an entrepreneur and volunteer. He is the father of four children, one of whom died at the front in July 2023. He hopes that someday he will be able to find out all the circumstances of his son's death, whom he buried in a closed coffin...

"You're the first person I've talked to about this since my son's death, and it's been almost a year and a half. You will be... delicate, right?" he says, without looking up at me.

We came to visit Andriy in Izmail. His family has long been rooted here, and his children were born here. In a suburban village, Andriy has a snail farm where he takes people who have been burned by the war to rest. And in the city cemetery, there is the Alley of Glory, where the father comes to be silent over his son's grave. Each time, hoping that the nightmare will end, the phone will ring and he will hear his voice...

Only love and respect

The father suggests talking in the car. It was his son's car, he bought it in 2022 for volunteering.

When the full-scale war began, Andriy Jr. was on a voyage in the Black Sea. It was a common thing: a foreign bulk carrier, a Ukrainian crew. The team is still sailing.

Andriy went ashore in Romania and asked his father to meet him on the Romanian-Ukrainian border by phone. It was in April 2022. The son wanted to join the Ukrainian Armed Forces.  

"Our family is ethnic Russians, our ancestors have been settled here since the time of Catherine the Great. But since our passports stopped showing our nationality, we have identified ourselves as Ukrainians.

We are Ukrainians, this is our Ukrainian state, and no one else has the right to rule here. My wife and I raised our children this way. And Andriy as well. He is our firstborn, born in 1993. He has my name not because of some kind of, you know, pomps. It just suited him very well."

Andriy could only get mobilized in early 2023. Before that, with his father's help, he opened a cafe on a highway, prepared food for checkpoints, and collected stuff for the soldiers needed at the front.

"He's been very active since he was a kid, always in the center of something. He started earning money at the age of 16, working on a construction site. And not because of greed for money. Stinginess is not about him. If he has two hryvnias in his pocket, he gives them to the person who holds out their hand, not thinking that he himself is left without money."

Suddenly, Andriy Sr. clarifies: "He gave them away." And then he stops talking. He is still not used to talking about his son in the past tense.

"I don't like talking here, let's go somewhere else," he says.

Then he is silent for a long time, looking through the windshield as the wind plays with the leaves in the park. I rustle my notebook to remind him of myself.

"I have always wanted my children not to be afraid of me, because fear cannot be the basis of normal friendship and normal relationships. I do not accept any dictates in a family, manipulations, humiliation. Only love and respect.

It happened that when he was a teenager, Andriy was distant from us. I felt it very much and tried to show him that he had a loving family where they would understand his problems and help him. Sometimes we would just look through albums with family photos in the evening, recall some pleasant things, so that everyone would feel like a part of the family."

Nowadays, it takes his breath away when the merciless Facebook reminds him of his son's photos of events from many years ago. Here is Andriy diving, here he is on a motorboat, here he is with a freshly caught fish. There will never be new photos again. 

For the second year in a row, this father has been watching a horrific freeze-frame: Andriy, whom he recognized in the Izmail morgue...

"We would go fishing together, assemble and disassemble something, just walk along the banks of the Danube, throw stones into the water, and talk. It was never a lost time for me. I always had something to talk about with my son.

His head has always worked well. Not a traitor. Not a coward. He never betrayed anyone. And he really didn't like people who did that. Even his teachers said that he was straightforward and open."

His friends were walking by the car, and the man got out to say hello. When he got back in the car, the liveliness with which he had just hugged his friend disappeared in a flash.

"I often hugged my son. I never hid my tenderness for him. Why? Hugs do not disgrace a father. And he hugged me, he was not ashamed to hug me."

Andriy suddenly gets out of the car. For a moment, he stands with his back to me. He says decisively: "I can't be here anymore. Let's visit Andriy."

So that parents do not talk to photos

"Visiting Andriy" means a visit to the Alley of Glory. Neatly kept paths stretch between the graves, lined with flags at equal height and uniform headstones and memorials inscribed with 'Heroes Never Die,' along with large photos of the fallen. The local community has truly honored them.

The row of graves in which Andriy Jr. rests is still being arranged. The work may have been completed in the days since our visit to Izmail.

The son in the photo is wearing a winter camouflage coat and holding a sniper carbine. He is smiling happily as a child.

"I keep thinking that I didn't give Andriy enough love and attention. And this will never be corrected.

When parents send their children to war, they realize the sacrifice they are making. And our children understand that they are making a sacrifice for the sake of other people, so that they can live and have a country. But I talk to people and realize that many of them have not needed these sacrifices for 300 years. They have their own lives.

When I hung up the Ukrainian flag in 2022, many people asked me if I was afraid of attracting the attention of certain people, saying that not everyone would like it. We have a lot of people here who are ‘awaiters’. And there are many people who do not distinguish between the Ukrainian idea and the Ukrainian government with its dubious patriotism."

Andriy picks up trash from his son's grave that only he can see. He touches the headstone gently. And I feel that the photographer and I are out of place here now...

"My wife and I became even closer after Andriy's death. We shouldn't blame each other for any trouble. You need to understand that your wife is your friend, that she is also suffering and needs support.

Long after the funeral, my wife wrote messages to Andriy on social media. It made her feel better. But I did not write. Write after what I saw in the morgue? But how can you carry all this inside?

There should be some kind of public service to support parents. Just at least call them, visit them once in a while. Because maybe these parents are now looking at a photo of their child for months and talking to the photo because they have no one else to talk to."

Yellow flags on the Alley, yellow leaves on the trees, and the sun playing with yellow gold. I once read that in Japan, yellow symbolizes courage, and in Egypt, mourning. Courage and mourning have now come together at the Izmail cemetery.

"Let’s go to the farm. Andriy loved it very much. It's nice there, you'll feel it," says the father. But a moment passed, and another, and some more time, before he walked away from his son's grave after these words.

Gentle calm

I really felt it. It’s peace. Safe peace and gentle silence. It turns out that there are such places in Ukraine now.

Andriy Shyrenkov’s farm, "Bessarabian Snails," slopes down toward Lake Safiany, with small homes for the exotic shelled creatures nestled along the hill. Fruit trees, grapevines, and yucca bushes grow nearby, with cozy tables under shaded canopies. Sit on the swing, and you’re met with a lush green-and-gold panorama of trees around the lake, and above, a sunlit, deep blue sky.

"Andriy planted these yucca shrubs, and those nuts and apricots," says the father. 

He says that back in the ATO, he and his son were thinking about setting up a rehabilitation center on the farm. They realized that war means crippled soldiers, depression, and orphans.

"I suggested to the Ministry of Social Policy that we use the farm's territory for the rehabilitation of soldiers. They were not interested. From the first day of the full-scale war, I have been telling officials that you can cut the budget any way you want today, but the time will come when you will have to answer what you have done for veterans without limbs, how you have taken care of their emotional state.

In Izmail, we have now allocated a former city hospital for a rehabilitation center, which has not had a single patient for 37 years. Can you imagine the condition of this building, how much money we need to invest to turn this ruin into a modern rehabilitation center? And what kind of emotional rehabilitation can be possible there if the wounded see a morgue in the window?"

Andriy says that in his dream rehabilitation center everything will be different. The building has to be built on top of a hill, with windows and balconies overlooking the lake and the distance beyond. On the ground floor, there will be physical education rooms, rooms for communication with psychologists. And a pottery workshop – working with clay is very calming. And everything for fishing. And the opportunity for the guys to work in the garden – let them learn how to prune trees, harvest for their own pleasure, feed snails, play with the cats and dogs that live on the farm.

"Rehabilitation is when a person is involved in some good and interesting work. For example, I had IDPs from the eastern regions visiting me here, and I offered them to make a ‘Mykolaiv Flowerbed’ and a ‘Kherson Flowerbed’ so that they could leave a piece of their hearts here and make the next IDPs from those regions happy. It is a pity that they did not agree."

Good must prevail

Andriy currently has no money to equip his rehabilitation center. But starting in 2022, he has been accepting groups of children and adults for recreation.

"The first to arrive were children from Mariupol, Kherson and Mykolaiv oblasts. We brought them a trampoline, and set up frame pools. Andriy was very happy with all this. He tussled with the kids, swam, and played with trains. We invited psychologists from Odesa and Kyiv, so the children could talk to them. And how they played with snails! You know, the children were just having a good time. There was a group of orphans. The person who accompanied them said that it was the first time she had seen a smile on their faces in a long time."

Nowadays, in addition to children's groups, parents and wives of the deceased, as well as war veterans, come to see Andriy Shyrenkov. Sometimes they come twice a week. For them, he offers a tour of the farm, tasting snail, crucian carp and quail dishes, concerts, and casual communication.

"I don't talk to them about my son as they have enough grief of their own. Our family wants the visit to the farm to bring only positive emotions to these people."

And to be able to provide these emotions, the farm also accepts tourists for a fee. Life has taught Andriy to rely on himself in all things first and foremost. Although he would be very grateful to the state for any support for his endeavor.

"I come here when all the lights are on red, just like in my car. I stay here for half an hour and my lights turn green. The sunrise and sunset are so beautiful here! Here you realize that the world is wonderfully created, that every flower in it carries beauty.

Everything Andriy planted on the farm has taken root – it's no accident, right? My son really liked the idea of a rehabilitation center. That it is for people, that they feel happy here, that they sincerely thank us. My son and I have always believed that good should triumph over evil, not only in fairy tales."

Andriy raises the roofs of the snail houses, shows his pets, and regrets that we can't wait for the snails to feed as they only eat in the evening.

Here at the farm, Andriy no longer suddenly stops our conversation, does not shift it from the topic of his son to something else, does not take long pauses to calm his excitement. But is it just the wind that makes his eyes blurry with tears?

"Some say the pain for a lost loved one eases after the first year, but for me, it hasn't. And I’m not one to break easily. I feel a debt to my son, to the soldiers on the front lines. I remember they need help—mine, all of ours. Supporting them is how I pull myself out of despair."

While we were touring the farm, Andriy was constantly receiving calls from people who wanted to visit.