Thread by @MargoGontar

My great-grandfather Mykola was tall and handsome man. When Soviets started Holodomor - they were taking food from Ukrainians, were starving us - Mykola got a job at grain warehouse. Every time he went to work, he put on boots with wide lapels and walked around the warehouse.

When he would got home, they’d spread a tarpaulin on the floor so he could he lay down and gather all the grain that fell on those wide lapels of his boots.

Every time I hear this story, I almost see this tall and handsome man, walking and walking, measuring the warehouse with his steps. I almost can hear them: one step, another one.

Against all odds,against all who was trying to destroy him and his family - out of fear, out of envy

Because they knew they would never be able to put on those boots with wide lapels, and go to that grain warehouse and walk, and walk, so that later they could try to get some of that of grain from that tarpaulin.

And then go again, the next very day. And again. Despite the risk

But my great grandfather had those to risk everything for:
us.

So he put on his boots. And he went to warehouse. And he layed down on that tarpaulin. And he gathered that grain.

And now - my whole family is here, thanks to my grandfather.

When I write this, I feel warmth and pride.

Grandpa, thank you.
Grandpa, look, we're all here.
We are here. We have something to eat, grandpa.
We are here, thanks to you, grandpa.
I am here, thanks to you.

Thank you, grandpa.

I also feel resolve, rage and hate: towards all those who have tried to kill my family then. To those who are trying to kill us now. Out of fear. Out of envy.

Because they knew they’d never be able to put on my grandpa’s boots.

While in Ukraine, we all have a pair like that.