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A group of relatives of Ukrainian prisoners of war gathered at a rally in Kyiv on Tuesday to remember their loved ones as the full-scale Russian invasion reached its 1,000th day.
Tetiana Mozol’s husband was taken alongside 75 others on the first day of the full-scale invasion at the Chernobyl nuclear power plant.
“You can say that our lives have stopped,” Mozol said as she gathered with others at the rally. “Without our close ones it simply stopped.”
At the Maidan memorial dotted with flowers and flags, Halyna Saienko, a 66-year-old internally displaced resident of Donetsk region, stood in reverence.
“I never expected Putin to do such a terrible thing, to his brotherly Ukraine,” she lamented.
Post worker Valentyn, meanwhile, surveyed a flag memorial commemorating soldiers who died defending Ukraine in Kyiv’s central Independence Square.
Before Russia’s invasion, this was an ordinary green lawn in the heart of Ukraine’s capital. Tourists would visit to take photos, and locals would stroll there on weekends.
But 1,000 days of war have transformed it into a makeshift memorial, dotted with blue-and-yellow flags — each honoring a soldier who died fighting Russia. Many were volunteers who left their civilian lives behind to answer to defend their country.
Their loved ones, left alone with grief, hope their sacrifices won’t be forgotten.
They plant small, simple flags, hand-marked with the names and dates they died. Over time, the flags have multiplied, fluttering in the wind as the seasons change and the war drags on.
Valentyn said that despite the uncertainty brought on by the relentless conflict, he continued to make plans but only for the following 2 or 3 days.
“For a longer perspective, I don’t make any plans,” he added. “We are still waiting for our victory, otherwise it will be a catastrophe.”
Associated Press archives show that the first flags at the memorial appeared on the lawn in May of the war’s first year, shortly after Russian forces withdrew from the Kyiv region and the capital was no longer under the threat of occupation. Photos from that time show dozens of flags neatly arranged in rows across the grassy field.
As the war continued, the place has transformed. The grass has faded away, replaced by well-worn paths resembling those in a cemetery, winding through thousands of flags. Among them, many portraits have appeared — brought by relative — showing confident, smiling faces in military uniforms.
City authorities have no control over this memorial. It was created by people themselves, driven by a deep need to honor their fallen in the absence of an official government memorial.
Soldiers and families come here to sit for long stretches, gazing quietly into the distance. New flags are added almost daily.
Nearby, funeral ceremonies take place almost every day, followed by moments of silence. Passersby stop, kneel and observe in quiet reverence. But soon, life in the capital moves on, returning to its usual pace.
The memorial keeps growing with each passing day, a reminder of the price Ukraine pays for its freedom.