The moment when I lost Hope 05.05.2025
- Yona Tukuser
- May 5, 2025
- 3 min read
Updated: Jul 2, 2025
The Cardinals hurried to leave St. Peter’s Square, pushing their way through dozens of cameras. Like a wave, they swept me away and pressed me between their lenses.
In that very moment, my mother called.
At first — silence.
Her voice trembled.
“They’ve killed him…” she whispered. “At the front.”
A boy from our family. In Ukraine.
My arms grew heavy like stone. Not from fatigue — from grief.
Tears ran down my face... The lenses stared at me like giant black spider eyes — many, glassy, soulless.
The cardinals passed quickly, casting fleeting glances at the “Hope for Peace” sign in my hands — but none of them stopped.
The wave of reporters followed for the Cardinals. And I was left alone.
I let the "Hope for Peace" down ...
Then a photographer approached. He saw my hands, hanging down, and said:
— Please, lift the “Hope for Peace” again. I want to take a photo of “Hope for Peace”.
I looked at him. My eyes was full of tears, my voice — quiet:
— I can’t.
— Why? — he asked.
— Because I lost. I lost hope. I can't hold up “Hope for Peace” anymore.
The photographer froze. Not a word. Just one tear slid down his face. And his eyes cried with mine.
— All right — I whispered after a while — I’ll lift it one last time. For you.
But this will be last photo. Tomorrow, I won’t be able to come back.
With effort, I raised my arms. As if lifting a cross, not a hope.
— I can’t go on — I told him. — It’s too heavy. I have no strength left to stand. I will sit down on the ground.
And I sat. Humbled. Shattered.
Not from weariness — but from despair.
The photographer cried... and kept taking pictures.
— I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t go — he told me. — I have to go to my workplace.
He walked over to the video camera. He was reporting live from the Vatican for NEWSMAX, covering the upcoming Conclave.
But his tears didn’t stop. They flowed quietly — down the face of a man behind the world’s lens.
And I sat.
A stone in the sea of vanity.
I sat, while the “Hope for Peace” leaned on my legs, so it wouldn’t fall completely.
Suddenly, a stranger reached out his hand. I thought he was offering to help me up.
But when I looked at his palm — there was a one-euro coin in it.
My blood boiled! I shouted:
— I don’t want money! I want peace!
Embarrassed, he pulled his hand back.
I asked him:
— Where are you from?
— I’m from the U.S., he replied.
— I’m from Ukraine — I said. — And in Ukraine, we have hope that America will help stop war.
He looked at me and quietly said:
— I also have hope for peace.
And he quietly moved forward,
while I remained, broken, on the ground.
But then, friends wrote to me: “You are not allowed to lose hope. Stand for peace for all of us. The war isn’t over. Don’t give up the fight for peace — for life.”
Strangers came to me, hugged me with love, and said: “Keep standing for peace. We want peace.”
At that moment I felt responsible – not only for my own hope, but for the hope of all of us. The people wanted me to stay, so I did.
The next morning I returned to St. Peter’s Square and the journalists happily told me that the Cardinals had issued a declaration of peace!
After I had almost lost hope, a few hours later, a message came from the Vatican:
“We, the Cardinals of the Holy Roman Church, gathered in the General Congregation before the beginning of the Conclave, having noted with regret that no progress has been made in promoting peace processes in Ukraine, the Middle East and in many other parts of the world and that attacks have intensified, especially against the civilian population, we make a heartfelt appeal to all the parties involved to achieve as soon as possible a permanent ceasefire and to negotiate, without preconditions and further delays, the peace long desired by the peoples concerned and by the entire world.
We invite all the faithful to intensify their prayer to the Lord for a just and lasting peace.”
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