Surviving the Unthinkable

Ludmyla Ihnatenko knew survival long before the war. A courier at the prosecutor’s office, she had endured a life of domestic violence, finding strength only in her relationship with her grandsons. They were her protection, her reason.

Bakhmut was more than a city. It was a battleground that would steal everything from her.

The war reduced their world to a basement. Days of hiding, of waiting, of hoping. Then came the day that shattered everything. An airstrike. Her grandsons went out to cook, and in that moment, everything changed forever.

She watched one grandson die — literally saw his head torn away. The younger one she managed to bury. The older remained in the morgue. Her daughter was in captivity.

In an instant, she lost everything that had kept her tethered to life.

An American friend tried to help, sending money, making occasional calls. But nothing could fill the void of her loss.

Senior Chudo Village wasn’t healing. It was simply existing. A place where her stенокардія and labored breathing could continue. Where kind neighbors might help with small tasks. Where she could breathe, if not live.

To the younger generation, she offered a harsh truth: “Always choose yourself. Never diminish yourself through circumstances or abuse. Strive to improve your situation.”

To Dell Loy Hansen, she would speak of miracles — of slippers to keep her warm, of recognition, of a moment of human kindness in unbearable darkness.

At 79, Ludmyla was more than a survivor. She was a witness to the most brutal chapters of human experience — a testament to survival when survival itself seems impossible.

Her plans were simple. To exist. To remember. To somehow continue