For nearly four years, Nazar Daletskyi existed only in memory.
His family believed he had been killed in action, his body buried in a village cemetery in western Ukraine.
They had mourned him, said their goodbyes, and learned to live with the ache of loss.
Then the phone rang.
Nazar was on the line — weak, exhausted, but alive. He had just been released from Russian captivity in a prisoner exchange.
“My emotions were so strong,” his mother, Nataliya, told the BBC, still shaken by the shock. The family’s joy at that first call, captured on video, is raw and overwhelming.
Her first questions were instinctive, urgent. Did he still have his arms? His legs? Was he whole?
“My golden child,” she cried. “I have been waiting for you for so long.”
In the background, Nazar’s cousin, Roksolana, screamed and jumped with disbelief and joy. Nataliya could barely hold back her tears.
“It was so strange,” she said. “My son had died. I buried him. And then I hear his voice. Can you imagine a mother’s emotions? Happiness. Great happiness.”
Nazar’s return feels almost miraculous in a country at war, where good news has become rare and precious.
When Russia launched its full-scale invasion in 2022, Nazar, then 42, returned immediately to the front. He had fought before, in 2014, and did not hesitate.
“He had no doubts,” Roksolana said. “He went straight away.”
But in May that year, he went missing in action.
Months later, Nataliya received a brief call from a Russian-speaking man who claimed Nazar had been captured and would be fine. No details followed. No confirmation came. The family lived suspended between hope and fear.
A year later, hope collapsed.
Nataliya was told a body had been identified in a morgue in south-eastern Ukraine using a DNA sample she had provided. The remains were badly burned, recovered from a destroyed bus. The records matched a missing soldier: Nazar.
The family accepted the body, held a funeral, and grieved their dead.
Then, last September, came another shock.
A Ukrainian soldier, newly released from Russian captivity, contacted the family. He said he had seen Nazar alive in prison.
It sounded impossible. But why would he lie?
Still, without a call, without proof, they could not allow themselves to believe.
Until this week.
From Ukrainian soil, Nazar finally phoned home.
He had been gone for three years and nine months.
Now, as the family waits for their long-delayed reunion, they are quietly undoing their mourning — asking for funeral posts to be removed from social media, taking his photograph down from a display of fallen heroes in their village.
An investigation has been launched to understand how such a devastating misidentification occurred. But for now, the family’s focus is elsewhere.
Nataliya is cooking her son’s favourite meals, preparing for the moment he is strong enough to come home.
“I want more outcomes like ours,” Roksolana said. “More calls. More people returning.”
Around 70,000 people are officially missing in Ukraine, most believed to be soldiers. Many will never be recovered. But others, like Nazar, may still be alive — waiting, unseen, unheard.
For their families, his story is a fragile but powerful spark of hope.
“I wish all mothers, all children, could get a call like we did,” Nataliya said. “This happiness.”
She is waiting now — not to mourn, but to hold her son again.
“I just want to hug him so tightly,” she said. “I love him very much.”
























