My first personal losses from russian aggression came at the very beginning, in 2014.
Viktor Gurniak was my husband's friend and a longtime fellow Plast scout. They grew up together, hanging out, organizing scouting activities, and hiking in the Carpathian mountains.
I can't recall ever seeing him without his camera. He was an incredibly talented photographer.
I remember Viktor's wedding to Irynka at a local castle. They looked magnificent, both so beautiful and so full of life.
Despite having a baby daughter, Viktor went on to document the Revolution of Dignity. Then, when russia invaded, he started volunteering before eventually joining a military unit.
His military callsign was Oligarch because he always managed to find and deliver whatever his unit needed. 2014 was very messy, but nothing was impossible for him. Nothing.
He was killed in action on Oct 19, 2014, at the age of 27, while rescuing a wounded brother-in-arms. I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news — standing at a bus stop in a Kyiv neighborhood that is now regularly bombed by russia.
He was always so full of life that my mind refused to accept that he could be dead. No. It was impossible. Viktor was eternal. He had to live. This world needed him.
Viktor was extraordinary. So many extraordinary Ukrainians have laid down their lives to defend every inch of our beloved land, Ukraine. Not so that we would simply give it up without a fight 12 years later because an American president decided to align himself with bloody russian terrorists.
We still have our dignity even if others have lost theirs.
Rest in glory, Vitiok.