Ode to Roman: Another Ukrainian Funeral
Stories from the Invasion of Ukraine
March 27, 2023. The day started slowly like they always do after the changing of the clocks. Adjusting to the new time seems to take longer as you grow older. There were no Air Raid Sirens this morning and haven’t been many the past few weeks here in Kyiv. A crisp spring air was a wake-up call as was the shining sun. It’s a Monday here so the world is back to its regular routine with people going to work, grabbing breakfast on the way to the office and the usual beat of traffic on the city streets.
A bus sat idling in the yard as I walked across the parking lot of St. Volodymyr’s Cathedral. People stopped before the Cathedral doors, crossed themselves and bowed before entering, I did the same. The old Babucyia behind the counter managed to understand my broken Ukrainian when I purchased candles to light for family, friends, our soldiers and all the innocents killed or suffering because of the war. A Lenten service was being conducted as I made my way around the icons, saying my prayers, remembering those who have departed or as we say, have fallen asleep.
Lenten services are dark and ominous, the curtains are black as are the vestments of the priests and deacons. Yet, it is still a joyous time because we are preparing ourselves for the coming of Pascha (Easter) which is the greatest of all feasts. The cathedral was slightly abuzz with those lighting candles, saying prayers as it always is. There are always signs of life in this place with its ornate icons and artwork filling every nook and cranny of exposed space. Even if you are not Christian, I suspect that the sheer beauty of the place would touch your soul.
I took my place near the front of the church as the deacon and priest sung their parts of the service. The choir sounded particularly harmonious and spiritual this particular morning. We listened to the prayers, bowed and did the prostrations that are common for Great Lent. Bowing and prostrating forces one to be humble which seems so out of touch with the current state of the world.
Father Bohdan (our priest), came from behind the curtain, saw me and gave his blessing, greeting and touched me with the cross. I was thankful for it since I overslept yesterday and missed Divine Liturgy at his (our) little wooden church tucked away from the big life of the city. St. Volodymy’s is headquarters for the Kyiv Patriarchate and we attend services there at times because it is just a walk down the block, a fixture of our neighborhood. My wife and I are thankful that it is there, we pass it every day when we walk our dog. Completed in 1882, it survived the Bolsheviks, Communism, WWI and WWI and so far it has stood against the Muscovite invasion unleashed on February 24, 2022. A solid structure, a spiritual home to many and today, the location of yet another funeral for yet another fallen soldier of Ukraine.
A red cassock is what Father Bohdan wears when he serves a funeral and that was what he was wearing when he greeted me at the service. Outside, after the service, Ukrainian soldiers were milling about by the bus. They were doing what soldiers do, smoking, using the bathroom and preparing for the funeral of their fallen comrade. Another life snuffed out for no reason by the pestilence that Moscow has brought to this land.
The sheer scale of death and suffering can’t not affect you in this war. Well, maybe if you are a psychopath, sociopath or just that egocentric it doesn’t. I stopped to grab coffee and thought of all these soldiers who have left behind families, friends, neighbors and futures. Some will survive, many are long gone, and others may never recover. Sitting down with my coffee, I opened my Ukrainian news channels. President Zelensky had issued a statement saying that many soldiers returning from the front were upset at how lackadaisical people in the rear seemed to be about the war in the rear. The soldiers would see people acting as if no war existed as if they are dying for nothing. Sadly, we hear these types in the streets all the time. I think that those of who stayed throughout the war, who didn’t know if we were going to live when the Battle of Kyiv was raging, look at things realistically and don’t take it for granted. Now, in Kyiv, many who are here but ran from the fighting, have no real idea what war is really like besides maybe going to an air raid shelter when the sirens go off. I am not knocking that as stressful because it is but it’s a completely different reality when you can hear active fighting and feel the repercussions of the artillery on your windows or the ground shake as you walk. We know many now speak or wear paraphenalia about “being brave” but ran like scared rabbits. We don’t judge them for running but we resent them for acting like they didn’t.
More bad news greeted me as I decided to check Facebook after a two-day break. There, I read the sad news that another patriot of Ukraine and personal friend had passed. His name was Roman Cybriwsky. Roman and I had met across the digital sphere when I had emailed him in early 2021 after moving to Kyiv. I had purchased his book “Kyiv: City of Demons and Domes” when I first moved to Kyiv and decided to look him up. He had retired from Temple University but still had an active email there, so I reached out. Since, I grew up in South Jersey, just across the river from Philadelphia, we shared that in common as well.
Roman was very generous and emailed me additional books he had written about Ukraine without asking for a dime. He announced that he would visit Ukraine again in the coming months, so we made plans to meet up when he was in town. Our first meeting, we got to know each other, drank coffee outside on a warm spring day in Kyiv’s Solomainskyi District where he had a dentist appointment and I happen to be living at the time. We met again a few days later in Podil near his beloved Kyiv-Mohyla Academy where he had met great friends and taught as a Visiting Professor. He gave me a signed copy of his book “The Sun-Tanned Professor” before leaving. We stayed in touch, sharing stories and insights.
In late October 2021, just a few months before the war, Roman returned. This time, we had moved into our flat in the city center. Roman wanted to take us (my wife Natasha and I) to shoot pool on the Left Bank and picked us up at St. Volodymyr’s Cathedral in the Megane car he had purchased a few years back. He drove Kyiv like a resident. We shot pool and he beat me badly, huffing and puffing as he went. Roman was a bit overweight and not in the best of health. He told us he was excited to see his granddaughter and family. Other personal pieces of his life were shared but those are something only spoken of between friends and not for public consumption. He told me about his new book “Incident in Kaliningrad” which was a new writing style for him.
Roman, an accomplished professor and published author, confided in me after reading my novella “Notes from a Reluctant Alpha Male” that my book had helped him find his “voice” for his new writing venture. He was also excited to have found a Ukrainian artist in Lviv to do illustrations for the book. He sent me drafts and asked for my critique which I happily gave and he made changes based on them. This was one of the best compliments I would ever receive as a hobbyist writer.
The muscovite invasion came in February and Roman stayed in touch through Facebook and regular texts. I updated him about what was happening in Kyiv and on the ground. We hadn’t spoken as much lately but he was always keeping up with my Facebook posts which served as a kind of war diary. We talked about him visiting when things quieted down and how we would hang out again. Now, that will never happen, and I have lost a new-old friend. Ukraine has also lost Roman. He so loved all of Ukraine and especially Kyiv. In fact, he instilled that love of Kyiv and the Dnipro in me and the desire to see more of Ukraine through his book Ukraine Panorama. Ukraine has lost far too many of its best. We need weapons to finish this war so people can rebuild, heal and go on with their lives. The war didn’t kill Roman but with him, a little part of Ukraine died just like it does with every death caused by this war.
Later this afternoon, after our neighbor gives us a short lesson in Ukrainian, we will walk to St. Volodymyr’s Cathedral to light a candle for Roman’s soul and life. We will pray his sins be forgiven and he sleep in a place of peace in the light of Christ. Roman was Ukrainian Greek Catholic since his people were from Western Ukraine but he didn’t really practice. That doesn’t matter. What matters is that we will remember Roman and be grateful that he came into our lives, that his family bears this grief and does their best to honor yet another Ukrainian Cossack who has crossed the steppes into the afterlife.
Farewell, dear Roman, we will meet again on the shore of the Jordan.
