Grace in grief: Ukrainians find dignity in honoring those they’ve lost
Nothing in life separated the twin brothers until the violence of war erupted. Nikolai and Misha Kovalenko, born 15 minutes apart on Nov. 19, 1960, shared a bond that deepened as they grew from boys to men, from husbands to fathers to grandfathers. Their parents raised them in northern Ukraine and instilled an unwavering allegiance to a country then under the Soviet Union’s control. Conscripted into the Red Army, they served together in the same unit in Hungary, and after returning home in 1985, the brothers settled near each other in the Kyiv suburb of Bucha.
They followed parallel paths in the ensuing decades. Each man married, started a family, and found a career – homebuilder for Nikolai, security system technician for Misha. Nearing retirement, they still spoke almost every day, even if only for a minute or two by phone. The ritual reassured the twins that life was as it had always been.
The future diverged from the past when Russia invaded Ukraine on Feb. 24. Nikolai escaped west to the Lviv region with his wife and two sons. Misha stayed back with his wife and daughter. The fighting in Bucha intensified, and with Russian troops turning the city into a killing field, the family tried to flee by car on March 5.
Misha had driven about 2 miles, past ruined high-rises and grocery stores, when he hit a Russian checkpoint on Yablonska Street. He stopped before the barricades and stepped out with his hands up. The soldiers opened fire. His body fell.
His wife was shot in the leg as
