The family separated by war in both life and death

Every day at the stunningly ornate Holy Transfiguration Cathedral in the western Ukrainian city of Vinnytsia, Vladimir lights two candles. One is for his daughter, Natasha, and the other is for her daughter - his granddaughter - Dominica, who was four. Both were killed when a Russian shell landed in the besieged city of Mariupol in early March.

"I come here and I talk to them. I stand around a bit, cry, and it gives me relief," Vladimir tells me in a quiet, reflective garden area at the rear of the Cathedral. "This is a house of God, and I find solace here, and I keep telling them, 'My dear girls, time will come when we meet'".

I first met Vladimir at Zaporizhzhia's children's hospital three months ago. He was inconsolable with grief over the loss of Natasha and Dominica but was trying to stay strong for his surviving 13-year-old daughter Diana. She suffered catastrophic injuries and was lying, semi-conscious, in a ward with other child victims of the war. Doctors were not sure, at that point, if she'd survive.

Diana has, miraculously, pulled through, although she's got a long way to go, and may never fully recover from the attack which left shrapnel in her brain and damaged much of the right side of her body.

Thanks to informal networks of doctors and medical charities, many victims of the war, including children from the hospital in Zaporizhzhia, were subsequently evacuated to Germany for the complicated surgery they couldn't get in Ukraine.

Among them is Masha - who recently celebrated her 16th birthday in a German hospital in the east of the country.

"Thank you," she says quietly, as she accepts a small present from us. A hospital in a foreign country isn't where Masha would have wanted to mark such an important occasion in the life of a young girl. She's far from home, with only her grandmother for company, but she's now in good hands and is making progress.

When we first met her, three months ago, Masha was fighting for her life in the same Zaporizhzhia hospital as Diana. Masha's right leg had been blown off by a Russian shell, and she had other extensive injuries. She was so traumatised she wouldn't eat or speak for days.

"She is much better now. She refused to eat at all back then - we were scared for her life," says Valentina Feschenko. She is Masha's grandmother and her constant companion who stays with her in the hospital.

"She's had 24 surgeries so far - all of them under anaesthetic - with morphine too so it's been really hard for her," adds Valentina.

Despite everything, Masha appears to be doing well and when she occasionally breaks into a smile, it's enough to melt the toughest of hearts.

Masha is fortunate enough to have the people she needs around her. The rest of her family are nearby, recovering from less serious injuries they received in the same rocket attack.

Masha remembers Diana from the time they spent at the Zaporizhzhia hospital - she too was sent to Germany, to another hospital slightly further west.

Diana was a talented dancer before the war and travelled all over Europe competing.

"I miss my dance classes. I had a really nice group," she says, as we talk with her mother in the hospital garden as the rain starts to fall gently. "I want to dance again so much."

But, as the only surviving child in her family, the one thing Diana wants more than anything is to have her beloved dad, Vladimir, by her side.

They speak every day by video call and the bond between father and daughter is clear.

"I am glad to see my dad on the phone, but I wish I could talk to him like we are talking with you now," Diana says to me.

Modern technology has made separation slightly less painful, but with Diana still in a bad way, this bereaved family needs to be together.

"It does help. It brings some relief. Sometimes we talk, and it's comforting," says Diana's mother, Victoria, about coping with the loss of a child and grandchild.

"At first, Diana was afraid to ask about them, but then we talked to a psychologist, and they said that it is better to talk. For us, they did not die. It is as if they stayed in a different city, a different country."

Until now Ukraine's martial laws have prevented Vladimir travelling abroad to be with his wife and surviving daughter.

That's because as a man of fighting age - between 18 and 60 - Vladimir could potentially be called up to fight and even sent to the front line to defend the cities of the Donbas from the Russian invasion.

But this bereaved 52-year-old man, sitting in the corner of an Orthodox Church, weeping for his lost children, is in no fit state to pick up a gun and fight.

"If they give me that permit, I am definitely going to Germany. I cannot be without my family, I keep thinking about them," Vladimir says quietly but with absolute determination. "I need to go there to support them. For the sake of Diana, for the sake of my wife and even for the sake of my deceased children, I need to carry on for them."

With Diana due to undergo another brain operation within days - Vladimir lobbied President Zelensky, directly, for permission to travel.

On Sunday night, at the eleventh hour, his prayers were quite literally answered as he received presidential permission to leave. His daughter is still seriously ill but at least her father, Vladimir, will now be by her side.