AS the Coronation of King Charles III is celebrated across the UK, a war continues to rage not very far away in Ukraine, due to Russia's illegal and brutal invasion.

According to latest figures, it has been estimated that between 15,500 and 17,500 Ukrainians have been killed so far, while Russian deaths are thought to be between 35,500 and 43,000.

It’s easy to become desensitised to such figures when they're reported on the news: to not think deeply enough about the scale of the tragedy, and what it means.

But for every one of those deaths, there is a grieving family having to face the agonising practicalities that come with their loss.

In cases where the body has been recovered, someone, somewhere, has to go to a morgue to identify their loved one. They have to recover their belongings. They have to organise the funeral.

But we don’t think about any of that when the latest statistics are read out on our TV screens. Indeed, the longer the conflict goes on, the less prominence it's given on daily bulletins.

That’s why a beautifully written book by Ukrainian historian and university lecturer, Olesya Khromeychuk, is so important. Not only does The Death of a Soldier Told By His Sister, contextualise a war that is happening today, little more than 1,500 miles away, but it brings home the horror facing every family that loses someone in the conflict.

The Northern Echo:

This Saturday evening (May 13), on stage at the Influence Church, in Richmond, it will be an honour to interview Olesya in a fundraising event for the people of Ukraine.

Money raised will be shared between the Richmondshire Refugee Group’s appeal to ship generators to communities across Ukraine, and a UK charity called the Ukrainian Institute London.

I'll be talking to Olesya about the history of the conflict, its impact on the fabric of Ukraine, and how her 42-year-old brother, Volodymyr Pavliv, was killed by shrapnel, while defending his country on the frontline in eastern Ukraine, in 2017.

As Olesya explains in the book, Russia’s war against Ukraine did not start on February 24, 2022. It began in 2014, with the occupation of Crimea and parts of the Donbas.

Her account of her brother's death is heartbreaking, such as this description of his funeral, at the moment the open coffin was about to be closed:

'My mum said her farewell just before they closed it, but I couldn’t. My legs felt like they were made of lead. I didn’t want the journalists photographing our last goodbye. As they were closing the coffin, I wanted to scream: ‘No! Don’t! Not yet!,’ but I couldn’t say a word. I just stood there and watched them close it, lift it and take it out of the church.'

Later in the book, she writes about how she draws on her personal experience in her work as a university lecturer:

'…I would encourage my students to think about the people behind the numbers in their textbooks, because it is individuals who die in wars, ethnic cleansings and genocides; it is actual living, breathing people who become the casualties of wars. These are not abstract losses. Each loss means some family’s world being shattered.'

Sadly, there is no sign that the war in Ukraine will be over soon. In the meantime, we should all think about Olesya's poignant words the next time we hear the latest death toll on the news.

  • Tickets for the fundraising event are available, for a minimum donation of £20, through www.booksandboots.org/news or at Richmond Information Centre.