The Memory Keeper of Kyiv

by Erin Litteken

If only one man dies of hunger, that is a tragedy. If millions die, that’s only statistics. JOSEPH STALIN

Ukrainians today are fighting for their country with a strength and tenacity that has captivated the world, but it is impossible to deny that history is repeating itself. It’s horrifying, and we must do better. As the granddaughter of a Ukrainian refugee from WW2, the poignancy of this war devastates me. While we can’t change history, we can all learn from it and do something to help the Ukrainian people today.

“What do you think being a mother is? It’s a constant battle. It’s endless fear. It’s continuous worry. And it’s always work! But it’s worth it, Katya; I swear to you, it’s worth it.” Mama smoothed back Katya’s hair and kissed her brow. “Now push!” Katya propped herself up, huffed in a lungful of air, and bore down. She let out a low moan and swore her body split into two as the baby slipped out. She decided later that it wasn’t only her body splitting, but a piece of her heart breaking off. That’s what being a mother was—ripping out a piece of your heart and giving it to your child.

“I’ve never thanked you.” His words stopped her. “For what?” “For taking care of Halya. Feeding her, after losing Viktor.” His voice faltered. “It can’t be easy for you.” At the mention of Viktor’s name, her stomach twisted. Of course it wasn’t easy. But Kolya didn’t know that sometimes Katya closed her eyes and pretended Halya was Viktor. Or that other times, she’d imagine that Halya was the baby born to her, and she’d never experienced the losses of her child, sister, and husband. If she could pretend Halya was truly hers, Katya could forget how they’d really come together. How grief and death had forged a bond between them that couldn’t be fully described. Katya didn’t love Halya any less or resent her for surviving when Viktor didn’t. Instead, she clung to the baby like a drowning person grips a raft. Halya gave her purpose and motivation to get up every morning. A reason to find food at any cost so Katya’s body could keep making food for her. Halya’s survival had become Katya’s sole purpose in life.

Understanding dawned on her as she realized they were searching for her ruble certificate. Her repulsion faded, and anger replaced it. Why hadn’t she thought of grabbing it first? The man was right. What was the dead woman going to do with it now? It might as well help feed someone else, like Halya. She had to think faster if she wanted to keep Halya alive. It was good to have compassion, but the dead were beyond its reach.

For weeks, Katya had fallen asleep to the sound of her mother’s labored breathing. Wheezing and rattling, it punctuated the minutes like a clock marking the time as they fell further into the nightmarish reality of their lives. Three days after her marriage to Kolya, Katya blinked awake, her thoughts fuzzy and tangled, as unexplained trepidation made her shiver. She pushed herself out of bed and glanced around the room, searching for the source of her unease. Early morning light filtered in the window, landing on her mother’s pale, still face. She crept over, the empty silence of the room echoing all around her and touched her mother’s cold cheek. She’d expected to feel sad. To feel lost. Alone. And she did feel all those things, but in a detached way, as if her heart had grown so hardened that even sharp, intense feelings could no longer penetrate it. What she didn’t anticipate was the sudden surge of relief. Relief that this shell of her mother no longer suffered. Relief that she no longer had to agonize over the futility of trying to keep her alive. Relief that they didn’t have to go to sleep each night wondering if her mother would wake up the next day, because finally, she hadn’t. Now, Mama was just one more person she had failed to save.

Then, she looked down the road and saw the abandoned farm, and it all came back to her like a punch in the gut. How could she ever forget, even for one moment, what she had lost? She deserved to be carrying this pain, feeling it always. She survived. They didn’t. The crack in her armor sealed over and she hardened.

With a gasp, she dropped the mirror on the bed. “What’s wrong?” Kolya called. “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Nothing that matters anymore.” Katya smiled bitterly, and her bottom lip split open with the unnatural movement. What did her pride matter now? It should have vanished long ago. Maybe when she’d eaten the earthworms she dug up in the garden while searching for potatoes, or when she’d boiled an old piece of leather into a soup. She gave a sigh of disgust and turned the mirror face down. “You’re still beautiful, you know.” Katya jumped at the sound of Kolya’s voice so close to her, then gave a hoarse laugh. “You’re kind to say so, but none of us look our best now.” Kolya sat down on the bed next to her. “No, we don’t, but you have an inner beauty and strength that will always shine through.” Her face warmed under his gentle regard and she opened her mouth to respond, but before she could think of something to say, he jerked upright and walked away from her. She stared after him, unsure if she’d imagined the whole conversation, and the tangled knot in her chest constricted once again.

Most of the people they found frozen right where they had died, their once happy homes now their final resting place. Some, who had collapsed with exhaustion, lay on the floor. Others, perceptive enough to know the end loomed near, had put on their best clothes before taking their final breath. Children lay dead in their mothers’ arms. Old couples embraced each other in their beds. Whole families lay in ruins, defeated by Stalin’s forced hunger, just as he had planned. “How did we survive this?” Katya asked. “So many didn’t. Why us?” “Sometimes, I think they are the lucky ones,” Kolya said, his voice hollow.

They clung to each other, two lost souls in a broken world, seeking solace in the most unlikely of partners. They continued spending their nights together, physically connecting as much as they could with their frail, broken bodies, their hearts slowly coming back to life. But in the light of day, Kolya barely spoke to her, and when he did, it was never of what happened in the dark. So, she suppressed her confusion and went on as if nothing had changed, counting the hours until nightfall, when she could come alive again in his arms.

When the field was done and they were dismissed to go home for the day, she could no longer silence her worries. How could she ever explain that she’d taken her sister’s life? She’d married her husband, raised her child, and now had the audacity to fall in love? To try to start a new life with the shattered remains of what they’d once been. How could anyone forgive that?

As she lowered the journal, Kolya walked through the yard down below with Halya perched on his shoulders. Katya watched him move towards the house, long-limbed and lanky, with a rugged grace that made her heart ache. Her past clutched in her hands and her future laid out in front of her, painted against each other in stark relief, but how could she bridge this divide? Life had set her down a path she’d never imagined traveling, and now she was stuck with one foot in each world—the before and after.

Kolya dropped his hands and his gaze. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve pushed you away, but I’ve been so confused about my feelings. About Alina and Pavlo. Can you forgive me?” “There’s nothing to forgive. I’ve had the same confusion.” She grasped at the shattered pieces of herself, pulling them together, finding strength, then took his chin and pulled it up so she could look in his eyes. “But I need to know now. How do you feel about me, Kolya?” Kolya stared at her, his brilliant blue eyes shimmering like the summer sky. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, Katya. I can’t deny my true feelings any longer. And I don’t think Alina and Pavlo would want us to. After everything we’ve lived through, they would want us to be happy.” His hand slid around to the back of her head as he kissed her. His firm lips pressing against hers reinforced all the feelings he’d put into his speech. Katya kissed him back, the broken shards inside her smoothing out into a beautiful path towards her future.

Nor was it like the pure first love she’d shared with Pavlo, either. Her love for Kolya grew from the bond of survival they shared. What they’d endured, what they’d seen, left an indelible mark on the two of them and created a connection that she couldn’t explain if she tried. He had become her safe haven in a terrifying world. They had united to keep Halya alive, and to keep each other alive. The feelings that followed occurred without any suggestion from either of them, but they couldn’t be denied or ignored.

Katya sighed as she bent to gather the wheat and resume her work. Nothing had turned out like she expected. Her dreams of Pavlo had begun fading away. Sometimes, she would think about what their lives could have been like together, but it hurt too much to do that often. He was gone from her life now, his memories a sweet haunting melody that thrummed in her heart, but no longer pained her so constantly. She’d moved on in her own way, because she had to in order to survive, but she would never, could never, forget him. Kolya paused, wiping his brow with his forearm, and turned to face her. “How are you feeling?” He reached out and cupped her cheek. She placed her hand on top of his and smiled. “I feel wonderful.” He leaned forward and kissed her—his lips soft and salty with sweat—then pulled back, a grin playing on his mouth. “Then so do I, Katya. So do I.” Katya curled her bare toes in the warm dirt and turned her face up to the gentle sun. Her father’s voice echoed in her ears. Look to the future. Life would move on with or without her, so she chose to fight. She chose to live.

“Bobby, you were put in unthinkable situations. You did everything you could.” “I’ll never really know that, though, will I?” Bobby said. “Life is a series of choices, each one pushing you towards the next. Maybe if I’d chosen differently in the very beginning, things would have been better.” “Or maybe they would have been worse,” Cassie said. Bobby shrugged one bony shoulder. “Maybe. But what’s done is done, and I can’t change it now. I can only say this: I made a mistake in thinking I could bury it all. Looking to the future doesn’t mean you have to forget the past. You can have both, Cassie, and be all the richer for it.”