A Death in Ukraine: How a Grief Counselor Faced the Loss of Her Own Son

“You don’t need to lose your life to grief.”  

The woman saying this, Allison Magallon, is a grief counselor who unfortunately knows what she’s talking about.  A year ago, Russian soldiers killed her 28-year-old son; Jericho’s body still hasn’t been returned home.

The Russian invaders frequently booby-trap the bodies of men they kill, and retrieving Jericho’s body would risk the lives of others. Magallon may have to wait for the war to end before her son’s body can be brought back.

For her, the trail that would lead to her losing her son began the week after the Russians’ February 22, 2022 invasion of Ukraine. It started out as a normal day. Mid-morning, on impulse, she telephoned Jericho, suggesting that they get together for lunch.

“No, Mom,” Jericho answered, “I’m at the Passport Office.”

“Passport office?”

“Yeah, I’m here getting a passport because I need to go to Ukraine.”

It caught her off-guard.  She remembers thinking, “I don’t want this, I can’t support it.” Over the next few days, she meditated on her son’s decision, remembering his previous experience as part of the U.S. Military Police. She knew it was his nature to fight for justice and, as part of her meditation, she visualized his coming back home safely. 

Comforted by this vision, a few days later she drove him to the airport, on the way buying him a bullet proof vest. He flew to Poland, and then hitchhiked his way to Kyiv to join Ukraine’s Foreign Legion. 

Jericho spent ten months in Ukraine, witnessing the invaders’ harrowing atrocities. He encountered chilling scenes, including the sight of young boys whose heads had been severed and displayed on pikes. He met women who had endured the terror and humiliation of not only being subjected to sexual assault but afterwards being violated with the barrels of guns.

He saw horror after horror, but after 10 month’s service, he returned home. His mother’s vision of his safe return had come true.

However, after a short time home, people in the Ukrainian military asked if he could return for ten days for a special limited program to help train Ukrainian soldiers. His mother was relieved to hear that he wouldn’t be near the front, that it would only be for a short time, and that his sole mission would be training.

Unfortunately, the training was in Bakhmut, one of the war’s most violently contested areas. On September 4th, 2023, he was killed. 

Soon after, Russian trolls found out how to contact Magallon, and began sending her death threats.  “They even told me,” she remembers, “that Jericho’s body had been chopped up and fed to dogs.”

People heard of her situation and put her in touch with the Weatherman Foundation. The foundation assists people who are helping Ukraine’s war effort. They helped her understand that the trolls were part of a coordinated program of psychological terrorism against people who come to Ukraine’s aid.   

How did grief counselor Magallon respond to almost unbelievable stress and grief?  “I have two other children, and I have to live for them,” she answers. “I believe that pain is inevitable, but suffering is a choice. I don’t want my other two children to stop living their lives.”

Her response is deeper than that. She’s studied indigenous cultures, living with them and being a part of their ceremonies. She believes that we need to get back to what they know, that ceremonies help us process grief, and that we need to practice really listening to each other and even holding each other.

Something else that comforts her: as Jericho told her before he left for Ukraine the first time, “Mom, if I didn’t go to Ukraine, it would be watching bullies in the playground beating up a child and everyone is standing around saying how awful it is. That’s not me. I have to go.” 

She finds solace now, feeling that Jericho completed what he was supposed to do in life. “He gave his life for what he believed in,” she says, her voice firm, her expression resolute.