“LAVANDA”

She was born in the village of Lykholitky, Chernihiv Oblast. She graduated from Kyiv Medical College No. 3, obtaining the qualification of a nurse. In civilian life, she worked at the Kozelets Central District Hospital, then at the Feofaniia Clinical Hospital of the State Administration of Affairs of Ukraine, and from 2023—as an operating room nurse at the State Institution “Institute of Traumatology and Orthopedics of the National Academy of Medical Sciences of Ukraine.” After Russia’s full-scale invasion, Anastasiia joined volunteer efforts: she assisted Kyiv’s Territorial Defense, delivered humanitarian aid to residents of Kherson, Nova Kakhovka, Donetsk and Kharkiv oblasts, and other settlements affected by the war. In February 2024, she volunteered to join the Armed Forces of Ukraine (ZSU), where she served as a combat medic in the 68th Jaeger Brigade named after Oleksa Dovbush, in the “Dovbush’s Hornets” company. Call sign: “Lavanda.” Anastasiia was the wife of ZSU serviceman Yevhen Kravchuk, who had been held in Russian captivity since June 22, 2022. Fortunately, he returned home in one of the prisoner exchanges on February 5, 2025. Anastasiia died while performing military service in the Pokrovsk sector. Her heart stopped on October 21, 2024. A farewell ceremony for Anastasiia took place on October 26, 2024, at the Ascension Church in the settlement of Kozelets. The defender was laid to rest at the Zhuravlivske Cemetery in her native village of Lykholitky. “Lavanda” is survived by her parents. Yevhen Kravchuk. Former prisoner of war. Anastasiia Kravchuk’s husband —Life flashes before your eyes. They were supposed to kill me twice, but God spared me. In captivity, what kept me going were friends and the faith that Nastia was waiting. But one day I heard from the Russians that she had been killed. I didn’t believe it, because they constantly try to impose the idea that Ukraine no longer exists, that nothing is left there. Every day in captivity I prayed for just one thing—that my wife would be alive. And when I was released in February 2025, I learned—it was true. It’s like you should feel better, because you’re finally free. But you feel unbearably bad, because all your plans have gone… like that. Can you imagine—I put everything on her, I projected everything onto her. Any day of life… It was brutal. I’ll be honest. I don’t know why I was so lucky, and with full confidence in myself, I often understood that I didn’t deserve her… There are not enough words to describe what my beloved wife was like… It’s not for nothing that there’s a saying that “a person’s actions speak for them.” I knew Nastiusha better than anyone, and more than anyone I understand how much I lost… And how much good she did will be remembered by many people (and by our smaller brothers as well). What happened was determined by the Almighty, and I have no right to judge or complain. After all, in the Quran there is a phrase: “I know what you do not know” (in Arabic: إِنِّي أَعْلَمُ مَا لَا تَعْلَمُونَ) — these are the words of Almighty Allah in Surah Al-Baqarah (2:30). P.S. I have never felt a greater blow or a harder adaptation, and captivity will never compare to this. I will miss her more than anyone. We all must remember our Heroes and Heroines and never forget❤️🇺🇦 Kristina. Friend —…I don’t even know where to start or what to tell. We went through so much together—so many moments, memories. I won’t have enough text. I will never forget her smile and her laughter, which I miss desperately. We’ve been friends since we were about 15. We used to hang out in different groups in the same neighborhood, but later we all merged into one. Just a normal friendship between girlfriends—we grew up together, lived through everything together, so many personal moments. We became even closer during the full-scale invasion, at a distance. Zhenia’s captivity. Nastia was completely broken then. She traveled everywhere, looking for him in all the hospitals of frontline cities, etc. Then, after I returned from abroad, we started going together with humanitarian aid. It all began with Kherson, after the destruction of the Kakhovka HPP by the occupiers. And then we worked in the directions of Donetsk, Kharkiv oblasts, and so on. And then Nastia was already mobilized… We saw her off at the train station. I remember that day so clearly. The train moves off slowly, fluffy snow is falling, the platform is barely dusted, and we walk after the train—our footprints remain, and we wave. And she smiles. That day I gave her flowers and a card with the words: “I believe in you! K.” She carried it with her everywhere. The last times we saw each other were when I brought humanitarian aid to Pokrovsk—in June, and then in July 2024. That time I also broke a finger in Kramatorsk, and no one wanted to do an X-ray because it was a weekend. While I was on the way from Kramatorsk to Pokrovsk, Nastia was searching for a hospital that would take me, then dragged me there by the hand and caused a whole scene—like she knew how😅 And then we went on a girls’ shopping trip) She was so happy to be distracted and to have someone close by. That same June she received her combat veteran certificate. I was always proud of her. She taught me everything I know in volunteering. I had the best teacher! She called me “Little troublemaker,” because I could be picky and needed everything to be clear. Nastia knew how to unite people. And even after… she continued to do so. Her last request was: “If I’m killed in action… instead of flowers by the coffin there should be food for dogs and cats that will go to a shelter, and all the money people bring should also go to animals.” Of course there were flowers—alive, and the most beautiful. She loved flowers so much. And her love for animals doesn’t even need words—that was all Nastia. There was a whole list of “last wishes” that she wrote when she was mobilized and when she had her first combat outing. Receiving such letters hurts. I was angry at her, of course, but she knew what she was writing—and to whom. Then she also sent me passwords for accounts, bank cards, phones, photos, military documents, etc., so that if something happened, I would pass everything to her parents. I did everything. But that’s the last thing I would ever want to have to do…💔 I wasn’t in the city when they told me she was gone. I screamed into the phone in hysteria and begged them to say it was some horrible joke. I immediately started texting and calling her… I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. At that moment a few of us learned among the first, and then I couldn’t bring myself to call her mom, Halia. I returned home by the nearest train. And the preparations for the funeral began. And then the farewell itself. As soon as I entered the house, I hugged Nastia’s mom and we just stood there crying without words. They gave me every sedative they could. I sat by her for a long time. On her final journey I told her everything I wanted to—and everything I didn’t manage to say. It’s heavy. There was also this moment… It happened that my brother carried Nastia’s portrait at the head of the procession from the church to the cemetery. And then we remembered that once, in Kherson, during another attack on the city, Nastia told him: “If it hits now, you’ll carry my portrait. Got it?” Everyone laughed then and forgot. But… that’s how it turned out. Too much was placed on her shoulders, truly. She was an incredibly strong person—sincere and with an open heart. With her own quirks—sometimes unbearable, of course, we all are. But that was Nastia. There are no people like her. There simply aren’t. She was support, a pillar, a reliable shoulder, warm and loving hugs. I am endlessly grateful to her parents for raising a достойна Людина for this world. And Nastia is always near—I know it. …little one, can you hear me? I love you🫂 Serhii. Brother —She wanted to plant an alley in honor of fallen soldiers, where each tree would be one lost life. Now one of those trees belongs to her💔 Olia. Neighbor, friend —We met after the invasion began. Not a long friendship, but very warm, cheerful, and even family-like🥹 There were many moments: sleeping in the car near the house, sitting at my parents’ place until morning, and the kids trying on her body armor and helmet😅 A small thing, but very memorable: a neighbor cut his finger a bit—Nastia took out the whole first-aid kit and almost performed surgery on him😄 Memory is all we have left♥️ After Nastia was gone, she introduced me to a very good person, and now we have a place we go to—and it reminds us of her🫶 Love you, Nast♥️ Ilona. Friend —It still hurts for Nastia. I can’t remember her without tears. Her sense of humor was exactly like mine. We could find anything funny—record a voice message in a silly intonation and laugh. And her pleasant voice. An iron will. I admired her… and took her as an example. And most importantly, we had such a strong emotional connection that we understood each other—when it hurts and how it hurts—for our loved ones. She was a very dear person to me. People like her truly don’t exist anymore. It’s impossible to forget. Iryna. Lawyer, friend —I remember how we were driving with her to Tetiiv. She asked me to drop her off—she left all her “children” (cats and Emma) in Kyiv and worried so much about how they would manage without her. On the way she said how cool it is to drive a car and that she also wants to be a driver. Soon she made that dream come true ✨ When we arrived in Tetiiv she was very happy, because she loved that city and hadn’t been able to go there often lately due to objective circumstances. Oleh. Serviceman, friend —So many thoughts, but I couldn’t put them into text. You were a real friend who would listen and advise 24/7, always write and ask whether any help was needed. As long as I can remember, you covered fundraising yourself when others pretended that nothing was happening. Even in my unit I often held you up as an example when someone started complaining. Forgive me that I couldn’t always answer calls or messages and listen, even though I understood that things weren’t easy for you there. I thank the Almighty for giving me such a friend. We miss you so much💔💔💔 Yasya. Tattoo artist, friend —Nastia has been a real heroine to me from our first meeting. We met at a tattoo session. I posted a sketch in stories that had been available for a long time. Nastia wrote immediately: “I want it. This tattoo is exactly about me—about my feelings and emotions right now.” The sessions were very calm. She was so strong—your back is a very painful place, but Lavanda endured like no one else. I know it hurt her a lot, but she didn’t even squeak—only sometimes her body would tremble. I was moved by her and her story from the first meeting. She hardly spoke, but her eyes were sad. When I transferred the stencil, she looked in the mirror and said, “My husband will kick me out of the house.” I smiled and asked, “Doesn’t he know you went to get a tattoo? Like a surprise?)))” And she replied: “He’s been in captivity for two years.” And then I felt terrible for asking in a playful way. During the process she said: “This sketch is about me. This is me. I’m a queen. I’m strong.” And I admired her strength—how she held on, and how kindly she treated everyone. She volunteered constantly and loved animals very much—if she could, I think she would have taken in all of them. I miss her so much. And this tattoo will remain my favorite forever. Even though we didn’t know each other for long, Lavanda is in my heart forever 🌸😔 Viktoriia. Former classmate, friend —What she was like… She was emotional, she was an activist, she was open, she was fair, she was funny. You could say a million more words about what she was like—unfortunately, was… This person was my classmate—one of those people who constantly disrupted lessons because of her explosive character, because some trigger would set her off. It was always so funny and lively, because it seemed like she wasn’t afraid of anything, and only with time do you realize that it only seemed that way. Nastia truly wasn’t afraid of anything—she went forward with her thoughts and emotions. And her laugh? It was so contagious that you couldn’t help laughing with her—a “real lady’s” laugh you can never forget. For some reason it’s so hard to write using the word “was.” I want to write so much more, but you realize that tears just start to pour, because she was a person of dignity and someone who deserved happiness and a beautiful life, but… If I could meet her now even for 2–3 minutes, I would definitely tell her: “Thank you for being so open with me in those life moments when you didn’t have to share that information at all, but you trusted me. Thank you for all your actions and deeds. I remember you with pride and our communication, because you are one of the few people about whom you want to talk and remember all the time—and обязательно set as an example. Thank you for being present in my life. Just thank you for being you… May you have light clouds there and a peaceful life—but no longer in our crazy world…” I remembered our last meeting at the end of September. How funny and emotional she was, how tightly she hugged me when we met, and promised we would meet next time—but the next time I saw her, she could no longer see me… I watched her videos again and laughed again—where she recorded videos for another fundraiser. So funny, so open, so emotional. Maksym. Serviceman, friend —We worked together when we were little in Kyiv at a stable—giving pony rides to kids in parks. She got so funny-angry when the pony pooped while she was giving a ride)… childhood is gone. Adult life came. Then we met again in the war—on the Pokrovsk sector. Lesia. Former coworker —Nastiusha 💔 She was a true miracle. Kind—to tears. Open, sincere, bright. She always helped others—people, animals, everyone who needed warmth. There was so much love in her heart that it was enough for everyone. She saved, supported, inspired. The world without her became emptier… We remember. We love. Her kindness lives on in everyone she helped🕯️💔🐾🇺🇦 Vira. Friend —She was emotional, capricious, but an incredible friend 💔