Fallen Ukrainian defender Andriy Ivanov: "If you wait for me, I will return from the other world."

By Yusuf Inan | Wise News Press

MYKOLAIV, UKRAINE — For 17 months, Karina Ivanova waited for her husband Andriy to come home; now she is telling their children about him and seeking recognition for his service in Ukraine.

Andriy served with Ukraine’s 66th Separate Mechanised Brigade and was killed on 25 March 2025 near Novoliubivka in the Luhansk region. A DNA match later confirmed his death. Karina spoke with Wise News Press about the family they built, the calls she still remembers, the uncertainty they endured and the conversations she now has beside his grave.

A life together before the war

Yusuf Inan: How did you and Andriy meet, and what kind of life were you building together?

Karina Ivanova: We met on 4 May 2008. At the time, I did not know that meeting him would be the beginning of the greatest love of my life. I did not know that he would become my husband, the father of my children, my support, my home and my whole life.

Andriy was extraordinarily kind, caring and sincere. He knew how to look after me, how to support me and how to find the words I needed. He showed his love through what he did, as well as through what he said. With him, I felt loved and protected. We were young, making plans and dreaming of a future together. We could not have imagined the trials that lay ahead.

We were together for four years before we married in 2012. We built an ordinary, happy family, with love, care, shared dreams and the wish to spend our lives together. We did not need anything extraordinary to be happy. What mattered most was being close to one another, knowing our loved ones were well and coming home to warmth and love.

Our daughter, Kristina, was born in 2015. Seeing Andriy become a father and seeing how happy he was with our little girl brought me such joy. In 2016, our son Artem was born. Our family grew, and so did our happiness.

Andriy was more than my husband and the children’s father. He was the person I could rely on, the person with whom I wanted to share both joyful moments and difficult ones. I believed we would face whatever life brought us together. I thought we had many years ahead of us: years to watch our children grow up, finish school and start families of their own, while Andriy and I stood beside them and celebrated every achievement.

Yusuf Inan: What was Andriy like before the war? What did his work at Motor Sich and as a mechanic and driver mean to him?

Karina Ivanova: Andriy was a very hardworking, kind and responsible person. Before the war, he worked at Motor Sich. He was an auto mechanic and a driver. He liked working, was not afraid of difficulties and always tried to provide everything our family needed.

Our family came first for him. He even worked two jobs so that the children and I would not go without. Andriy was not looking for an easy life. He simply wanted his family to be happy. He worked hard because he knew whom he was working for. To him, we were the meaning of his life.

Yusuf Inan: What do you remember about Andriy as a father?

Karina Ivanova: He was a loving and attentive father. Our children were his greatest happiness. He wanted to give them the best he could, to see them happy and to be there whenever they needed his support.

The most painful thing for me is that our children have been deprived of the chance to grow up beside their dad. He will not see so many important moments in their lives. He cannot hug them, give them advice or share in their successes.

I want them to know how much he loved them. I want them to remember their father as the person who worked for them and cared about their future, as well as the soldier he became.

Yusuf Inan: What was Andriy’s relationship with his parents like?

Karina Ivanova: Andriy was their late, long-awaited and only child. For his parents, he was their joy, their hope and their greatest treasure. They affectionately called him “Manyunyi.” There was so much parental love and tenderness in that name. Even as a grown man, he remained their little boy to them.

It is frightening to imagine the pain of parents who waited so long for their child, raised and loved him, and then had to face losing their only son. They waited and hoped for his return, just as we did. No words can describe what a mother and father feel when they lose their child. Children never stop being children in their parents’ eyes, however old they become.

Andriy will forever be 37. To his parents, he will forever be their Manyunyi.

The decision to serve and the last phone calls

Yusuf Inan: How did you react when Andriy decided to defend Ukraine?

Karina Ivanova: His decision was a difficult trial for our family. When your husband, the father of your children, goes to war, you know you will live with constant fear for his life.

I did not want to lose him. I wanted him beside us. I wanted our children to grow up with their dad, and I wanted us to keep building the future we had imagined together.

But Andriy was a responsible person, someone accustomed to doing what he believed was his duty. He was my husband and a person defending his country. I cannot say I was ready for any of it. You cannot prepare yourself for something like that. I wanted one thing: for him to come home alive.

Yusuf Inan: What did his calls from military service mean to you?

Karina Ivanova: Every conversation with Andriy was precious to me. I waited for his calls, for the chance to hear his voice and know he was alive and all right.

When someone you love is far away, you begin to value the simplest things: hearing “I love you,” asking how the day went or saying that everything at home is fine. Before, we might not even have realised how much those moments mattered.

On 20 March 2025, Andriy called our children for the last time. He told them, “Take care of Mum. Listen to Mum.” We did not know then that those words would become some of their father’s final advice to them. They could not have known they would no longer hear his voice as they had before. I will keep those words and pass them on to our children so they always remember how deeply he loved them.

Yusuf Inan: What did Andriy say to you during your last conversation?

Karina Ivanova: We last spoke on 22 March 2025. Andriy said he loved us. Then he said the words I will never forget:

“If you wait for me, I’ll come back from the other world.”

I did not know that would be our last conversation. If I could go back to that day, I would hold on to his voice. I would listen to every word and tell him a thousand more times how much I loved him.

I do not know whether he sensed what was ahead of us. But I know this: I waited. I waited with every breath, every thought and every prayer. I held on to his words like the last thread connecting me to him.

I believed he would return. I imagined the door opening one day and seeing my Andriy again. I imagined embracing him, holding him close and telling him how much we had missed him. I did not want to believe any other ending was possible.

I am still waiting for you despite everything, Andriy, and I believe you will return, because you promised me you would.

Seventeen months of uncertainty

Yusuf Inan: How did your family live through the 17 months after Andriy went missing?

Karina Ivanova: When Andriy went missing, it felt as though my life stopped. Every day became a day of waiting. Every phone call brought hope, and every piece of news could have changed everything.

Those were 17 months of pain, fear and hope. We did not know what had happened to him. I woke each morning hoping there would be news that day. Every time the phone rang, my heart raced. I searched for information, waited and prayed. I did not want to believe I might have lost him.

I tried to be strong for the children and find words to comfort them, even when all I wanted was to hear my husband’s voice. Inside, I kept asking myself: Where is Andriy? What happened to him? Is he alive? Will he come home?

Our children were waiting for their dad. His parents were waiting for their son. All of us lived with the hope that one day he would return. I kept waiting because he had promised to come back. I wanted to believe our story was not over.

Yusuf Inan: Did you see Andriy in your dreams during that time?

Karina Ivanova: I dreamed about him often throughout those months. Those dreams became especially important to me because, in them, we were together again. He did not leave me or disappear. I could feel him beside me and feel that there was still a bond between us that neither distance nor uncertainty could destroy.

I had my first dream about him soon after he went missing. Andriy was simply sitting beside me, stroking my hair. There were no grand words and no explanation. He was just there, touching me gently as he had done in life.

When I woke, the feeling that he was beside me stayed with me. I wanted so badly to believe he really was somewhere out there, that he was alive and that he would come back to us one day.

For those 17 months, in my dreams, we were husband and wife again: simply Andriy and Karina, two people who loved each other. In those dreams, I was not a widow or a woman waiting for news of her missing husband. I was his wife, and I could be with the person I loved.

Perhaps those dreams helped me endure it. When reality broke my heart, I could be with him again in my sleep. Each time I woke, I returned to waiting.

When the DNA result arrived

Yusuf Inan: What did you feel when the DNA match confirmed Andriy’s death?

Karina Ivanova: That was the moment my greatest hope met the truth I feared most. For 17 months, I had waited for my husband, believed he was alive and imagined seeing him again. I did not even want to think about the possibility that I might never see him again.

When the DNA match was confirmed, I could hardly accept it. My mind heard the truth, but my heart refused to believe it.

How do you come to terms with the death of someone with whom you shared so many years? How do you accept that the husband you saw off, hoping he would return, will never open the door to your home again?

I still cannot understand how the person with whom I made plans, raised children and shared my life can no longer come home. I lost more than my husband. I lost the person closest to me, my support, the life I knew and the future we had planned together. Our children lost their dad, and his parents lost their only son.

I have to be strong for the children. I have to support them and be the person they come to with their pain. But inside, I am his Karina, too. I want to hear my husband tell me that everything will be all right. I want to feel his arms around me and, for just a moment, not have to be strong.

I remember his last words and how desperately I wanted to welcome him home alive. I waited, Andriy. I truly waited for you with all my heart.

Yusuf Inan: How have you spoken to Kristina and Artem about their father? How do you hope they will remember him?

Karina Ivanova: It is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. How do you tell a child that the dad they waited for is not coming back? How do you find the words when you are struggling to understand it yourself?

The hardest thing is knowing that our children will grow up without him. They will not be able to call him, hear his voice, hug him, tell him about their achievements or ask him for advice. He cannot take their hands and be there for the important moments in their lives.

I want Kristina and Artem always to know that their dad was a good man who loved them with all his heart and did everything he could to give them a happy childhood. I will tell them about our life, about what Andriy was like before the war, how we met, how we married and how happy we were when each of them was born.

I want to preserve the photographs, memories and words he left us so they can return to them when they miss him. They should not know him only as a soldier who died in the war. They should know him as their dad, the man who loved them and for whom they were the greatest happiness.

Andriy remains with us in our children, in their eyes and smiles, and in every story we tell them about him. I want them always to know what kind of father he was and how hard he worked for them.

The family’s memories and petition

Yusuf Inan: What has Andriy left with your family?

Karina Ivanova: The most precious things Andriy left us are our love, our children and the memories of the life we shared.

We had been together since 2008. Over those years, he became far more than my husband. He was the person closest to me, the one with whom I shared happiness, difficulties, dreams and ordinary days.

He taught me to value family, care, devotion and real love. Through his work, he showed what it meant to take responsibility for the people you love.

I need to keep all of that for our children now: to tell them about their dad, pass on his love through our memories and remind them that they are part of our story. I once thought we would spend our whole lives together. I thought we would be there as the children grew up and made lives of their own.

I do not know how to learn to live without Andriy. I do not know how long it takes to learn to breathe when a part of you remains with the person you love. But I know my love for him has not disappeared. It is in me, in our children, in every photograph, every memory and every word he said to me.

Sometimes I return in my thoughts to our last conversation. I remember his voice, his words of love and the promise I so desperately wanted him to keep. I waited because I loved him and because I could not imagine our story ending this way. Now I will meet him in our memories, in my dreams and in quiet conversations with the sky.

We had many happy years together, but I wanted a whole lifetime. The war took away the tomorrow we had imagined. It cannot take away what we meant to one another. He will always be my Andriy, and I will always be his Karina.

Yusuf Inan: What does petition No. 270718, seeking the posthumous title of Hero of Ukraine for Andriy, mean to your family?

Karina Ivanova: To us, this petition is more than signatures or an official title. It is a request to recognise someone who gave his life defending Ukraine.

I want people to remember the person behind the name of a fallen soldier. He was the man I loved, the father of two children, his parents’ only son, a kind and hardworking person. He had dreams. He loved his family. He worked, made plans and wanted to live.

Andriy served in the 66th Separate Mechanised Brigade named after Prince Mstyslav the Brave. He was killed on 25 March 2025 while carrying out a combat mission near Novoliubivka in the Luhansk region.

I am asking for my husband to be awarded the title of Hero of Ukraine posthumously. For me, this is about the recognition of his service and preserving his memory. I want our children to grow up knowing that their dad’s sacrifice was recognised, that his name was not forgotten and that his life mattered.

I ask everyone who cares to visit and sign the official petition for Andriy Ivanov. Writing “I support this” in a comment does not count as signing it. Every signature means a great deal to our family.

Yusuf Inan: What would you like readers and the authorities to understand about him?

Karina Ivanova: I want people to remember that behind every fallen defender there is a family. There is a wife who has lost the man she loves, children who cannot embrace their dad again and parents who have lost their child.

Andriy was a person who wanted to live, work, love his family and raise his children. He had plans, dreams and a future. The war took his life and took away our chance to be together.

I cannot bring my husband back or change what happened. But I can work to keep his name alive, to see his service honoured and to make sure our children know their dad has not been forgotten.

I ask the authorities to hear our family. The posthumous title of Hero of Ukraine would be a way to honour his memory. And I ask everyone who reads this interview to remember Andriy, support the petition and tell others about him.

My husband will never come home. But I want his name to live on. I want our children to be proud of their dad and his parents to know that people remember their Manyunyi. I want Ukraine to remember the defender who gave his life for it.

Andriy, I promised to wait for you, and I did. Now I promise to preserve your memory. You will always be in my heart, in our children and in the history of our country. You will always be my husband, always their dad and always our hero.

“I come to see my Andriy every day”

Yusuf Inan: Are you able to visit Andriy’s grave? What are those visits like for you?

Karina Ivanova: I come to see my Andriy every day. His grave is now the place where I can spend time with my husband, even though I wish with all my heart that things were different. I come to him, sit beside him and tell him everything that is happening in our lives: about the children and what they are doing, about my worries and about how terribly I miss him. I speak as though he were sitting beside me and listening, as he did when he was alive.

I tell him things that I once could say with only a glance or a quiet word at home. I tell him how our Kristina and Artem are growing, how hard it is to manage everything on my own, how I miss his voice, his embrace and our ordinary conversations. I miss the simple family life that once felt so familiar and has now become my greatest dream.

Sometimes I feel I cannot leave, because I want to stay close to him a little longer. I want to tell him everything that has gathered inside me, share every painful thought and everything on my mind. He was my closest friend, my husband, my person. I was used to sharing my whole life with him, and now I have to learn to live without him.

The most painful part is going home alone. I used to come home to a place where my husband was waiting, where there was his voice, his warmth and his presence. Now I leave his grave and go home, leaving a part of my heart there.

I still speak to him in my thoughts: “Andriy, how I miss you. If only you knew how much I want to tell you, how often I need your advice, your arms around me and that simple reassurance: ‘I’m here.’”

I visit him every day because I love him and do not know another way to feel close to someone who will always be in my heart. His grave is where his body rests, but our love, our memories and everything we lived through together remain with me.

I cannot take your hand anymore, Andriy, but I can come and talk to you. I cannot embrace you, but I can bring flowers and sit beside you. I cannot hear you answer, but I still tell you about our lives, because you will always be my husband.

And perhaps the hardest part of this loss is having so much love with nowhere for it to go, and so many words I can no longer say to anyone as I once said them to you.

I will keep coming to see you, my Andriy. I will remember our life and tell you about our children. You are more than a part of my past. You are part of me, of my heart and of our family. However much time passes, I will always have something to tell you.

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