She was like a comet—brightly flaring up early and leaving a significant visible trace even as she faded away. Living fast and dying young seemed to describe her, but it didn’t quite fit. That’s usually said about rock stars who join the ’27 Club’, stories often rooted in self-destruction. Iryna Tsybukh, though she wrote a posthumous letter, wasn’t rushing to join that “club.” She had many plans for her life, including simple, everyday goals like having children or growing tomatoes.
She loved life, but during the war, she often found herself in the heart of the inferno. Aware of the possibility of dying, she wrote a farewell letter a year ago, which is now widely quoted in the media. It stands as a manifesto for what is worth living and fighting for.
“To truly embrace freedom, one must embody bravery. Happiness is the reward of the courageous. It’s far better to perish in motion than to decay in stagnation. Let us honour the valour of our heroes. Do not lament; demonstrate bravery,” wrote Iryna in her message.
She didn’t become brave in an instant; it seemed she was born that way. I knew her when she was 18, and even then, she was full of energy and determination to work towards victory. Our paths crossed on volunteer routes. Cheka, Iryna’s callsign, always tried to do as much as possible, helping every unit where she had friends and acquaintances. She viewed trips to the Donbas region during the ATO-JFO era as a long-awaited joy, not a risk or challenge.
Iryna was born and raised in Lviv, proud of her Galician roots, but her love for Ukraine was never narrow or regionally confined. In her interviews, she often talked about how she grew to love and understand our East. For her, it was the land of Alla Horska and Cossack settlements. Iryna’s love was active and engaged. For several years, she travelled to the Donbas to give educational lectures. She held many meetings with local schoolchildren, often facing criticisms (the children echoed messages from their parents, influenced by Russian propaganda), but she stood her ground, found counterarguments, and always tried to see the light at the end of the tunnel in this challenging work. And she succeeded.
I remember her work at Suspilne, where Iryna spent several months working at Dnipro. Her social media posts from that time were yet another declaration of love for another region of Ukraine. I remember her mentions of Staryi Kodak and other places of Cossack glory that inspired her during her free time from journalism. I read these posts, liked them, and thought that a sincere post from a girl could sometimes do more to promote our domestic tourism than the efforts of entire bureaucratic structures in regional state administrations.
We weren’t close friends and only spoke in person a couple of times at a café in the “Olivets” building at Suspilne. We never had the chance for long, heartfelt conversations, but from those brief meetings, I got a strong impression that Iryna was one of us. During the war, that’s the main way you identify people.
Iryna plunged into the war just as swiftly as she had into volunteering and journalism. From the first days of the battles for Kyiv, she was already saving lives with the Hospitallers. I have to admit, I felt a bit envious of her then. I had volunteered at the military recruitment centre on the first day of the full-scale Russian invasion, but I got stuck in the routine of guard duty while Iryna was under fire in Irpin, rescuing the wounded. It felt somewhat unfair that she and thousands of others were already involved in real combat while it took me several months to get there.
I was genuinely happy for Iryna’s successes, the state award she received, and her appearance on the cover of Elle magazine. In our times, she simply had to be there, as she was the face and voice of the generation that grew up during the war, literally carrying the front on their shoulders. It’s a generation we want to believe in, a generation we want to entrust with the future transformation of our country.
Iryna Tsybukh, being featured on the cover of Elle, is a clear testament to the evolution of our perception of womanhood. In a glossy magazine where one might typically expect a showbiz sensation or a supermodel, the presence of a combat medic, a patriot—a real person—stands out.
Iryna set high standards for herself and those around her. She was always coming up with new ideas and projects, such as her recent project to honour the fallen on a corporate level. I can’t even begin to guess how many similar initiatives she could have spearheaded. But now, we must band together once more and carry on without Iryna, making sure not to let down her legacy or dim the vibrant love that fueled her life.
