Exactly two years ago on February 24, 2022, the dawn broke to the sound of war in Ukraine, altering lives across the nation and beyond. Among those most profoundly affected were its older residents. For 66-year-old Olha, that morning marked the end of life as she knew it.
“I woke up to a different world,” she recalls.
After narrowly escaping the missiles that rained down on her native city of Kharkiv, she and her family moved to western Ukraine. Yet the relative safety brought little solace, highlighting a struggle of displacement at an older age that remains largely invisible against the backdrop of broader geopolitical tensions.
"Being forced to leave your home changes you in ways that not everyone can see or really get."
The unfathomable implications of the full-scale invasion triggered shock and denial as many clung to the hope that it would all be over soon. With less opportunities than younger generations, the overwhelming majority of older people stayed in Ukraine, tethered to their homeland by roots, memories, and very real practical implications.
“Where would I go? To a foreign country with a foreign language!? The travel itself would be very difficult for me, almost unrealistic. Come what may, I’m staying home,” Liudmyla, 81, says, mirroring the sentiment of many in her generation who refuse to leave the country despite the dangers.
But how does one live through the war that lasts longer than their worst nightmares could have conjured up? How does one cope with days punctuated with air raid sirens and terrifying hum of drones flying overhead?
For 65-year-old Lyubov, the answer lies in solidarity and service. A volunteer since 2014, she has helped many displaced persons, even while in displacement herself. Last year, she decided there was still more she could do and returned to her native town that is still being pounded by shells and missiles.
She now volunteers to support older people who have stayed behind in areas close to the frontline.
“I’ve worked hard all my life – both at work and at home. I don’t plan to stop just because I have aged,” she says, a glint of defiance in her eyes.
I’ve worked hard all my life – both at work and at home. I don’t plan to stop just because I have aged
Aging in times of war is a topic that comes up often when older people discuss their experiences. It entails its own, undeniable challenges. Having worked most of their lives, older people now find themselves with their possessions lost or destroyed, deprived of their support networks and relying on insufficient pensions for their rising health needs—all the while dealing with near-debilitating stress of the war.
Nina, age 74, seeks out new connections to elevate some of her anxiety about having her son in the army: “I try to meet people who are going through the same things as I am. It helps to open up to them as I don’t want to burden my family too much.”
"I try to meet people who are going through the same things as I am. It helps to open up to them as I don’t want to burden my family too much."
Viktor, 65, and his wife Nataliia, 66, decided to rebuild their life from scratch in a new setting. They emersed themselves in entrepreneurship as one makes handicrafts, and the other one promotes them. “I’ve always liked photography. I now put together short video reels for Nataliia’s embroidery works,” Viktor says as he fiddles with the camera, demonstrating the new skills he’s learned.
Whether they’re doing community work, pursuing creative interests, learning new skills, or taking care of their homes and families, older Ukrainians try to find their own way of coping with the war, adept at their unique needs and interests.
"I’ve always liked photography. I now put together short video reels for my wife Nataliia’s embroidery works"
Their stories are diverse and touch upon everything, from challenges to motivations. But there is a common theme: rebuilding. Rebuilding of networks, communities, of homes and hometowns. Redefining life under danger.
These stories come with many different faces and names, a wide range of backgrounds, abilities, and experiences. They know the road to recovery might be long, but they’re determined to muster the strength to walk it.
“I know things are a bit messy now, but I’m sticking around for the cleanup,” Nina says, standing up straighter, voice firm with resolve and optimism.
