KYIV, Ukraine — Once a simple green lawn situated in the bustling heart of Ukraine’s capital, this area has morphed into an unofficial memorial amid the ongoing conflict. Before Russia’s invasion, the space attracted tourists and offered a serene escape for local residents on weekends. Now, over 1,000 days into the war, it is adorned with blue-and-yellow flags, each representing a soldier who lost their life fighting against Russian aggression. Many of these brave individuals were volunteers who set aside their civilian lives to stand up for their nation.

The families of these fallen heroes find solace in ensuring that their sacrifices are not forgotten. They carry out the poignant task of planting small flags, each personally inscribed with names and dates of those who perished. Over time, this memorial has expanded, with flags flapping in the breeze as seasons transition and the conflict continues.

“I put it so that someone might pass by and see that this person once lived and gave their life for us,” explained Svitlana Kirichenko, who traveled from Cherkasy to replace a flag she had initially placed over a year ago in memory of her deceased son. She gently installed a new flag in its place. “So we can live peacefully among our own people, and not have Russians dictate how we should live and what to do.”

Historical records reveal that the first flags emerged on the lawn in May of the inaugural year of the war, soon after Russian troops retreated from the Kyiv area. At that time, the capital was no longer facing imminent occupation. Images from that period depict rows of flags standing resolutely across the grassy expanse.

As the conflict has proceeded, the area has notably changed. The once vibrant grass has dulled, giving way to well-trodden paths reminiscent of cemetery trails, snaking through the thousands of flags. Pictures of fallen soldiers, often provided by relatives, now accompany the flags, showcasing smiling faces in military attire.

Dressed in a black hood to shield herself from the persistent autumn drizzle, Svitlana Kanevska bent low to tend to a portrait of her boyfriend, Serhii Ivanytskyi, who lost his life months ago in eastern Ukraine. The image, a selfie he had sent her during their chats, captured him in a sunlit Ukrainian field. Kanevska tenderly dried the droplets from the portrait.

Since Serhii enlisted in the army early in the war, their moments together have been fleeting, largely restricted to exchanges via messages. He had kept the specifics of his location and missions private, focusing their discussions on love instead.

One December evening, on a brief leave in Kyiv, they strolled past this very memorial. “He expressed his sorrow for his fellow soldiers,” Kanevska recalled. Tragically, he was killed the following summer in 2024.

“You feel so much pain that you don’t know where to go or what to do,” she reflected, recalling the motivation that led her to this spot months ago to place a flag and photo for him among the many others. Kanevska, who works nearby, frequently returns to grieve.

She is not alone in her sorrow. This memorial is adorned with fresh and dried flowers, a testament to collective grief and a significant chapter in Ukrainian history. Independence Square has historically been central to the country’s revolutions, and many believe that this is the only appropriate location for honoring their lost ones.

The local authorities have no jurisdiction over this makeshift memorial; it has been established and maintained by the citizens, spurred by a profound desire to pay tribute to their fallen soldiers in the absence of formal governmental recognition.

Families and fellow soldiers congregate to spend long hours quietly observing. New flags are added frequently, almost on a daily basis. Nearby, funeral ceremonies occur with regularity, each followed by shared moments of silence. Bystanders often pause, kneel, and pay their respects. Yet, life in the capital inevitably resumes its usual rhythm.

This memorial grows bigger with each sunset, serving as a stark reminder of the sacrifices that Ukraine has made in its pursuit of freedom. “If someone thinks of him, it brings light to where he is. He knows he hasn’t been forgotten,” said Andrii Pedychenko, who visited to replace a flag for a friend killed in action nearly a year ago. “Each flag is a tragedy. And it reminds us that this is just a small piece because there wouldn’t be enough space here for everyone.”