In a quiet corner of a windswept cemetery in Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine, a poignant and heartbreaking scene unfolds. Large and small teddy bears are placed carefully around the grave of little Adam Buhayov, as if offering him comfort in his final resting place. The 17-month-old boy is not alone in death—his mother, Sophiia Buhayova, 27, and his great-grandmother, Tetiana Tarasevych, 68, are buried beside him. The three generations of a Ukrainian family were tragically killed together on 7 November last year in a devastating Russian attack.

The attack, which struck with brutal precision, tore apart this family and left a scar in a community already ravaged by the ongoing war. The graves of Adam, Sophiia, and Tetiana serve as a symbol of the immense human toll the war has taken on Ukraine, particularly in areas like Zaporizhzhia, where civilians have been caught in the crossfire of the conflict.

As the world’s attention has drifted from the relentless war in Ukraine, the devastating impact on families like Adam’s remains a stark reminder of the human cost of this conflict. The war, which began in 2022, has claimed thousands of lives, uprooted entire communities, and left many families shattered. However, the tragedy of Adam and his loved ones underscores the personal and intimate losses that often get overlooked amid the broader geopolitical struggles.

For those who remain in Zaporizhzhia, the memories of loved ones lost to this war persist. The teddy bears around the grave are not just symbols of childhood innocence but a profound expression of love and loss, marking a tragic chapter in a war that continues to tear through the fabric of Ukraine’s society.

Despite the toll the war has taken, Ukraine’s resolve to resist and rebuild remains unwavering. But for families like the Buhayovs, the pain of loss will endure long after the world’s attention has shifted elsewhere. Adam, Sophiia, and Tetiana’s story is one among many, reminding us of the personal sacrifices made in a war that seems to have no end in sight.

The sorrow etched into the heart of Yuliia Tarasevych, 46, is a pain that no words can adequately express. Her grief is an unrelenting force, and it is only at the graves of her beloved family members that she finds solace, however fleeting. Her daughter Sophiia, her mother Tetiana, and her grandson Adam—three generations—were taken from her in a moment of unimaginable violence. In that single instant, their lives were abruptly ended by a Russian-guided aerial bomb that tore through their block of flats in Zaporizhzhia on November 7 of last year.

Yuliia is left to grapple with the void left behind. She no longer has her mother, her daughter, or her grandson. The family bond that once held them all together has been broken in the most brutal way. As she stands at their graves, enveloped in the weight of her sorrow and wrapped in a heavy black coat, she struggles to find a way forward. “I don’t know how to live,” she says through tears, her voice tinged with a grief that goes beyond comprehension. “It’s hell on earth. I lost my mother, my daughter, and my grandson in one second.”

In the last moments captured on Tetiana’s phone, Adam, blond-haired and blue-eyed, wore his red anorak and a woolen hat, with a Mickey Mouse sticker on the front. He seemed like a typical toddler, playful and innocent, unaware of the tragedy that was about to unfold. “Don’t take off your hat,” Tetiana gently told him, but he did anyway. It was a simple moment, one of love and care between a grandmother and her grandson, but it was tragically their last. An hour later, the three of them—Tetiana, Sophiia, and little Adam—were preparing to eat when the bomb fell, ending their lives and the lives of six other civilians.

Now, Yuliia visits their graves, her grief consuming her every step. She presses her hand to the photograph of Tetiana, a woman who had dedicated her life to medicine, like her own daughter. “My dear Mum,” she whispers, stroking the image of Tetiana on the wooden cross. Each step forward brings her closer to the next grave—Adam’s, where she calls him “my little kitten,” and Sophiia’s, where her tears fall as she calls out, “My beautiful daughter, I am sorry I could not save you.”

Yuliia’s sorrow is not just for the loss of her family members but also for the shattered future that was stolen from them. There is no comfort, no explanation that can make sense of the unimaginable violence that ripped apart her family. The pain of knowing that she can no longer hold, speak to, or protect those she loved is unbearable.

For Yuliia, these graves are the only place where she can feel the presence of her family again, but they are also a reminder of the senseless violence that took them away. The war that has ravaged Ukraine since 2022 continues to tear apart the lives of countless families, leaving behind unimaginable grief and loss. Adam, Sophiia, and Tetiana’s story is a reflection of the personal toll the war has taken—one that often goes unnoticed in the larger geopolitical narrative. For Yuliia, the hell of losing her loved ones is something she must carry with her for the rest of her life, as she mourns the family she once had and the future that was forever altered in an instant.

Serhiy Lushchay, a 60-year-old father who shares the unbearable loss of his daughter Sophiia, grandson Adam, and mother-in-law Tetiana, stands as a pillar of strength beside Yuliia, his wife. They visit the cemetery frequently, finding a small measure of solace in the quiet company of their lost loved ones. “We visit the graveyard often,” Yuliia says, “and we will as long as we live, because it truly makes it a little easy for us.” Yet, each visit serves as a stark reminder of the deepening tragedy. The cemetery continues to expand “at a staggering pace,” with rows of blue and yellow flags marking the graves of fallen soldiers, piercing the somber grey sky. Every time they return, it seems the cemetery has grown—reflecting the ever-expanding toll the war has taken on their community and their country.

Zaporizhzhia, where the family lived, remains a regular target for Russian forces due to its strategic importance. Situated near the front lines, the city is within proximity of Europe’s largest nuclear power plant, currently under Russian control just 55 kilometers (34 miles) away. The constant threat of bombardment hangs over the residents, including Sophiia, Tetiana, and little Adam, who on that fateful day had no idea that the war would come to claim them.

On the morning of the attack that ended their lives, Yuliia, who was on a work trip in western Ukraine, called her daughter to check on her. The bombs had already been falling over Zaporizhzhia, and Yuliia’s maternal instinct prompted her to caution Sophiia. “I told her to be careful,” Yuliia recalls, “Bombs had been falling over the city since the morning.” Sophiia, ever the reassuring daughter, responded with calm resolve, “Thank you mum, don’t worry. Everything will be fine with us.”

Meanwhile, Serhiy, at work when the bombing began, later received the devastating news that something had happened to his family. Desperately, he tried calling his daughter, but there was no response. Then, he saw a message in his local residents’ WhatsApp group asking, “Friends, who else is still left under the rubble?” A sense of dread overcame him. “I rushed home praying all the way,” he says, “but my prayers were already in vain.”

When Serhiy finally arrived at the site of his home, all he could see were ruins. The building that once held his family had been reduced to rubble. He wandered aimlessly, searching for his balcony, trying to make sense of the chaos around him. Time seemed to stand still. “I don’t know how much time passed – two or three hours – and I realized there was nothing left, and no hope of rescue.” The grim realization set in: his daughter, his mother-in-law, and his grandson were gone.

This is the painful reality for many families caught in the war in Ukraine, where the line between life and death can be drawn in an instant by a missile, a bomb, or an attack. Serhiy and Yuliia are left to mourn not only their loved ones but also the life they once had—a life shattered by forces beyond their control. Their journey to the cemetery, amidst the expanding rows of graves, is a reminder of the relentless toll the war has taken on the Ukrainian people.

In the days that followed the attack, Serhiy and Yuliia managed to reclaim a few of their family’s belongings from the rubble, fragments of a life lost but not entirely erased. Among the items were a china cup belonging to Sophiia, miraculously unbroken, a toy fish that Adam had played with during his bath, and the little red jacket he wore on his final walk. These remnants now serve as cherished family treasures, reminders of the joy, love, and hope that once filled their home, now overshadowed by grief.

“Every evening when I came home from work, I would take Adam for a walk,” Serhiy recalls, his voice thick with emotion. “He was very curious about the sky. He’d point his little finger up, and we’d tell him about it. And he loved birds.” These simple moments of connection, shared between grandfather and grandson, are now precious memories that Serhiy clings to in the wake of the tragedy.

Another family video, captured before the attack, shows Adam being swung in Sophiia’s arms, his giggles filling the air as he ran around, surrounded by pigeons. “He had almost started talking,” Yuliia says, her voice breaking as she recalls her grandson’s innocence. “And he was always smiling. He was healthy, beautiful, and smart. He and my daughter made us happy every day.”

The joy that Adam and Sophiia brought to their family is now a source of deep sorrow, as their laughter and energy have been silenced forever. But despite the heartbreak, the memories remain. The love they shared, the warmth of their presence, cannot be taken away, even by the brutal forces of war.

Before the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Yuliia had taken Sophiia to safety in the UK, hoping to shield her daughter from the horrors of the conflict. There, Sophiia put her language skills to good use, working as a translator for Ukrainian troops being trained by the British military. Yet, despite the safety the UK offered, Sophiia longed for Ukraine, her home, her family, and the life she had left behind.

“She really missed her parents and her relatives and the country,” Yuliia explains, her voice tinged with sadness. The pull of home was too strong, and Sophiia returned to Ukraine. In June 2023, she gave birth to Adam, a new chapter in her life, filled with hope and joy. She also pursued a career in psychology, driven by the knowledge that many in Ukraine would need psychological support in the aftermath of the war. “She knew a lot of people in Ukraine needed psychological help,” Yuliia says, proud of her daughter’s compassion and commitment to others, even in the face of her own personal loss.

But that hope and dedication to helping others was cut short, and with it, the bright future Sophiia and Adam had ahead of them. Now, Yuliia and Serhiy are left to cope with the enormity of their loss. Their grief is compounded by the knowledge that their family was not just a casualty of the war—they were taken in an instant, with no time to say goodbye, no time to prepare for the unthinkable. Yet, amidst the pain, they hold onto the memories of Adam’s smile, Sophiia’s warmth, and the life they once shared. These are the treasures that remain—untouched by the destruction of war, but forever marked by its devastation.

In the midst of her overwhelming grief, Yuliia struggles to come to terms with the possibility that the world may soon push for Ukraine to negotiate with the very aggressor that has stolen her family and her future. As President Trump makes his return to the White House, advocating for peace talks between Moscow and Kyiv, Yuliia and Serhiy remain steadfast in their belief that Ukraine must continue to fight.

Yuliia scoffs at Trump’s assertion that he could end the war in a single day, calling it “funny to hear.” For her, and many others, the notion of peace talks with Russia seems unfathomable. “Russia is an aggressor, that came to our country, and destroyed our homes, and our families,” she declares, her voice resolute. “So, there can be no talk of any ceasefire or peace talks. If we leave this glutton [Russian President Vladimir Putin] with our territories and do not avenge the people we lost, we will never win.”

Serhiy echoes her sentiment, adding that any contact with Russians on Ukrainian territory should only be through combat. For both of them, there can be no reconciliation until justice is served, and the loss of their loved ones is avenged.

Many Ukrainians share their belief that even if a ceasefire is reached, Russia will eventually return for more, just as it did in 2022, eight years after annexing the Crimean Peninsula. Moscow now controls nearly one-fifth of Ukraine, and the threat of further aggression remains a constant reality.

However, time is not on Ukraine’s side. In 2025, there are several challenges looming on the horizon—dwindling manpower, the potential reduction of US military aid, and the fading attention of the international community. Yuliia acknowledges that life goes on for people in other countries, and that constant stress over Ukraine is something they cannot bear indefinitely.

“People can’t live in constant stress, thinking only about us,” she says, a tinge of resignation in her voice. But even as she recognizes the world’s fatigue, she wants to ensure that Ukraine’s struggle—and the human cost it has taken—is not forgotten.

“Still, I would like them to remember that there’s a war happening nearby, where not only soldiers but also civilians are dying,” she says quietly, as though pleading for the world to see beyond the headlines, beyond the political discourse, and understand the lives lost in this ongoing war.

For Yuliia, and for countless others who have lost their families and futures, it is crucial that the world knows the names of those who have perished. She wants the world to remember Adam Buhayov, Sophiia Buhayova, and Tetiana Tarasevych. These are not just victims of war; they are the faces of a tragedy that has torn through Ukraine, leaving behind a legacy of pain, loss, and an unyielding determination to ensure that their deaths were not in vain.