On auspicious anniversary, an uneasy closeness to Ukraine war

Today marks the fourth year of the war in Ukraine, a conflict that might feel distant for many, but for me, feels much closer.

For one, my wife and her family are Estonians, all of whom lived through the Soviet era, and most Estonians still live under the ever-present specter, partly real and partly imagined, of Russian aggression.

Adding to that, the war in Ukraine started on Estonian Independence Day. From whom did they declare both their first and second independence?

Russia.

Secondly, our older son is currently doing his compulsory military service in Estonia, so we keep an even closer eye on what is happening on Estonia's eastern border.

Lastly, I tutored Ukrainian refugees who arrived in Estonia a month or so after the war began. I am still in touch with some and receive firsthand accounts of what is happening in Ukraine. To put it simply, the war reaches well beyond the battlefield.

Two of my former students are now divorced. They were separated from their husbands for four years. The stresses of war, adapting to a new country and raising children alone were too much to bear.

Another former student lost her husband on the front lines. Now she and her son must go it alone for the rest of their lives.

Another woman is still married while raising their daughter in Tallinn and earning her doctorate online. Her husband is doing civilian work in Ukraine.

All these women have extended family still in Ukraine. They visit from time to time. It is a minimum one-and-a-half-day trip by bus, with an unpredictable border wait between Poland and Ukraine.

Women like this, and make no mistake, it is mostly women, are strewn about Europe; navigating a new country, culture, language and, for many, a new education system for their kids.

It can be dangerous, too. One of the women above once told me of hiding in the bathtub with her child when air sirens went off. Recently, she described one of the buildings in her housing complex in Kyiv being hit by drone debris.

It is an extremely heavy load these women carry. They try to do more than survive. They stay connected to family while living apart, providing their children with a safe environment to grow up in as far away from the war as possible. But that also means far away from their homes.

It all strikes a peculiar chord in me. I feel fortunate to have met these women. That alone is odd, considering the circumstances.

Adding to that, I have heard stories of my mom’s family having to put up German officers in their house in the Italian Alps during World War II, of my mother-in-law being deported to Siberia during Stalin times and of seeing war-torn Bosnia firsthand as an electoral official in 1996.

Now I hear firsthand what is happening in Ukraine.

Some might think it would all end if Ukrainians just stopped fighting. If they did, Russia would move deeper into Ukraine and demand more.

A better solution, as stated by Jonatan Vseviov, secretary-general of Estonia’s foreign ministry, is this, “If Russia stopped fighting, the war would end.”

Even then, it would not end the trauma and loss of those women, their children, and their husbands and other family and friends who stayed behind.

• Dan Franch, franchdan@gmail.com, a former Peace Corps volunteer, grew up in Addison and left for good in 1998. He has traveled to more than 50 countries, starting with a backpacking adventure around the world for a year in 1991. He currently lives and works in Estonia.