HROZA, Ukraine- In a tragic turn of events in the remote Ukrainian hamlet of Hroza, residents found solace in the somber task of clearing space for new graves next to a field. Their efforts served as a distraction from the horror that had unfolded just the day before.

A solemn gathering at the local cafe, where dozens had assembled to honor a soldier who had fallen in the war against Russia, was abruptly shattered by a missile strike. The devastating attack claimed the lives of at least 52 people, making it one of the deadliest incidents during the 20 months of conflict. The tight-knit community was left in shock, with questions looming about how the Russians could have known about the gathering, sparking suspicions of a deliberate attack.

Among the victims was Olya, aged 36, survived by her three children, as her husband had also lost his life. Olya's father, Valeriy Kozyr, preparing to bury his daughter and son-in-law, tearfully expressed his anguish. "It would have been better if I had died," he whispered, overcome with grief, lamenting the loss of his children.

As he wiped away his tears, Valeriy, now 61 years old, faced the daunting task of caring for his three grandchildren, aged 10, 15, and 17. His wish was to lay Olya and her husband to rest side by side in a single grave.

Valeriy had been spared from the café tragedy because he worked night shifts as a security guard and was not present during the attack. Nearby, three brothers were preparing a burial plot for their parents, both victims of what President Volodymr Zelenskiy termed a deliberate Russian assault on civilians.

Moscow continued to deny allegations of targeting civilians in its full-scale invasion, reiterating this stance in response to the Hroza strike. The relentless bombing campaign had claimed thousands of lives and caused extensive damage to various civilian infrastructure.

The grief-stricken brothers faced uncertainty regarding when they could hold the funeral, as their parents' bodies were still undergoing examination by investigators in Kharkiv, the closest major city in northeastern Ukraine. Some victims remained unidentified, with authorities resorting to DNA testing due to the extent of the remains.

In the midst of this tragedy, the community rallied to support one another. As darkness descended on Hroza, emergency crews carefully placed the deceased in white bags and loaded them onto a pickup truck. Local residents mourned their loved ones, and the devastating precision of the attack left many with a sense of betrayal.

Rescue workers diligently combed through the rubble of the café and nearby shop, while diggers cleared away debris. A makeshift memorial emerged, with flowers and candles placed on a low table to honor the departed.

In the cemetery, one grave stood as a poignant symbol of the village's resilience. Freshly turned earth lay beneath vibrant blue and yellow bouquets, echoing the colors of a large Ukrainian flag that fluttered above. This was the final resting place of Andriy Kozyr, a Ukrainian army soldier and a distant relative of Valeriy, the grieving father.

Andriy had fallen earlier in the conflict, and his family had longed to bury him in his hometown. Tragically, just as friends and relatives came together to celebrate his life, the missile struck.

In the words of Valeriy Kozyr, whose heartache was shared by many, "Half the village is gone, families are gone. All the time they miss. Well, this time, they hit. Now I'll have to cross out half my phone book."