Anatolii M. Sokyrko

It happened on October 17, 1989. The day turned out to be beautiful. The trees stood covered in autumn gold, Indian summer swirled in a waltz, and marigolds bloomed in the yard… That year, the flowers were truly wonderful — short with golden-yellow heads. So was Tolya — a small boy with a white head, somewhat resembling those marigolds that bloomed in the yard of Alla Mykolaivna and Mykhailo Anatoliyovych Sokyrky from the village of Vilshana. Tolya, Tolyik, Anatoliy… The boy grew up to the joy of his parents. He was the only son in the family, and therefore, the hope and support for his relatives. Tolya, calm and obedient, loved to play the most with his older sister Oksana. She was everything to him — a protector, a nanny, and a guardian. The girl took pity on her little brother. Even when she wanted to run to play dolls with her friends, she always took him with her. And he didn't bother the girls at all. He sat next to the toy car and just watched with his blue eyes. Toy cars were the boy's favorite toys. But very soon he had a new amusement; his parents gifted him a second sister — Tanya. Although Tolya was still a little one, he already tried to help his mom: he would hand her the pacifier, bring the diapers, or rock the cradle. Three children, like three swallows, always circled around their mother, and she, holding them to her heart, didn't even suspect how one day they would want to break free from her embrace and fly away into the world. But at that time, the woman only smiled and rejoiced, for God had given her the most beautiful two daughters and a wonderful son. Time flew by like those cranes. Anatoliy went to school. Mom was worried because he was the smallest; even the backpack next to the boy seemed like a giant. There were 19 students in the class, but Tolya managed to befriend everyone, and his cousin was also in his class. When the kids ran out for recess, even the older students gave way to them. Oh, how friendly they were! And their class teacher never had to blush because of them. Sometimes the boys would cause some trouble, but during the interrogation, they wouldn't betray their own, only saying: "We know — we are guilty, we acted wrongly, but we will fix it." And they did fix it. In the 11th grade, the children decided to plant an apple orchard near the school. They collected money, bought young saplings, and the very next morning, work began. The children planted a wonderful orchard — the Graduates' Orchard, which has now become the Memory Orchard. After graduating from school in 2007, Anatoliy entered the Chernihiv Construction College, where he trained as a welder. Thanks to growing up in the village, the boy was never afraid of physical labor. He could harness a horse and cook a delicious meal. And then everything went as it does for everyone. He went to serve in the army. At first, he was in "Desna," then in Bila Tserkva. After returning home, he began looking for a job. For some reason, everything in the young man's life happened too quickly, as if he was in a hurry, as if he felt that the future was so unpredictable. He never took a day off, always on the road, always away from home. Eventually, he found a job. Everything seemed to be good — the work suited him, and he was paid a salary, if not for the war. The young man received a summons from the military enlistment office, and on March 29, he packed his things and left his native home. That day he saw his relatives, his school, and his still young orchard for the last time. The little apple trees waved their tender branches goodbye to Anatoliy, bidding him farewell forever. ATO — what incomprehensible and at the same time terrifying letters. Even the mention of them makes the blood run cold in the veins. This is someone's tears, someone's life, someone's grief, and at the same time, someone's yearning for peace, for a bright future. How terrifying all this is even for us, and how much more for them — our defenders, participants in ATO? The young man called his mother every day, asking her not to worry because he was doing well. When there was nothing to eat and even a sour apple picked by the roadside seemed the sweetest thing in the world, he told his mother that he had eaten borscht that day. When he went several days without water and his cracked lips began to bleed, when raindrops collected in helmets were a gift from God, he said he had drunk tea that day. When he carried a dead comrade, soaked in blood, in his trembling hands, he said it was not scary at all. And only at night, when his battle brothers fell asleep, he lay on the grass and felt his heart beating. It seemed to him that everyone could hear that thumping. We can never imagine how much he wanted to go home, to his loved ones. Surely, if the boy had been released, wings would have grown behind his shoulders, and he would have flown to his native home like a bird flies to its nest. The young man often asked himself why it was him here and not others? And immediately answered — because he was stronger, because there were no others like him. Tolya — still just a child — looked death in the eyes every day, every minute. And each time, feeling its gaze upon him, he constantly chased away the terrifying thoughts. Today is July 15… Friends have died again. And he is alive; he has even called his mother. He lay down on the grass again. His heart was pounding even stronger; distant explosions could be heard. Anatoliy turned onto his back and saw the clear moonlit sky, dotted with stars. "Lord, how beautiful it is up there," the boy thought. "Of course, I will return. I will be 25 this year. And how many more times will I be 25?" A smile appeared on his face. At that moment, he felt something warm flow over his chest… The sky was filled with stars, but for some reason, it seemed that this time there were a few more of them; perhaps one of them was the star of our Anatoliy. July 20, 2014 — the most terrible memory in the village's memory. That day, women, men, and children cried. Classmates, colleagues, acquaintances, and strangers stood in mourning. It seemed as if the whole world had gathered. And over all these people, the most terrible sound echoed. No, it was not human weeping; it was a broken mother's heart beating against the closed coffin, as if it wanted to help the mother take one last look at her child. But no tears, no pleas could bring her son back… Time flies relentlessly. The trees are again in autumn gold, and marigolds bloom again. Anatoliy has a little niece born into the world. Unfortunately, she will never know what it is like to play with an uncle who loved toy cars so much at her age. But she will be proud to be a descendant of a true hero, which Tolya was. On October 17, the students of Vilshana School brought flowers to the soldier's grave. After all, on this day, he would have turned 25. And again, time flies like cranes in the autumn sky. Life goes on, for us — on earth, and for Anatoliy Sokyrka — in heaven.