Editor’s note: This interview is the third in a five-part series by journalist Shushan Papazyan, with photography by Nare Arushanyan, documenting Armenian soldiers who died in service to their homeland. Through the memories of their families, the series explores their lives, dreams, loves and the enduring weight of grief. This exclusive series will be featured in the Armenian Weekly over the coming weeks. Read parts one and two here.

The last photo of 29-year-old Harutyun Ohanyan from Astghik Medical Center rests in his brother Roman’s hands. Sections of Roman’s lower extremities were transplanted onto Harutyun’s skin in hopes of saving him. “The wounds on my legs still remind me of my brother’s loss, but I continue working to support our parents,” Roman told the Weekly. On Sept. 25, 2023, Harutyun suffered severe burns during an explosion at the Berkadzor depot in Artsakh.

Harutyun’s mother, Ira, recounted the events with long pauses, sometimes interrupted by Roman, who showed photographs of his legs after the dermoplasty. “75% of my brother’s skin was burned,” he explained. “They cut sections from my legs and transplanted them. After that, Harutyun felt much better; he had regained consciousness and was talking. His death was very unexpected for all of us.”

Roman’s legs after surgery

Two days after the explosion, Harutyun was airlifted to Armenia. He initially received treatment at Astghik Medical Center, then was transferred to the National Center for Dermatology before returning to Astghik Medical Center on Nov. 21. “They were arguing at the hospital about whose patient my son was. Finally, they transferred him to Astghik Medical Center to continue treatment,” his mother explained. Harutyun stayed there for about a month, where his condition gradually improved. “One day, he even sat up in bed and said that he wanted to walk. In early December, we noticed complications — there was almost no color in his face,” his mother recalled.

Three weeks before his 30th birthday, on Dec. 8, Harutyun suffered cardiac arrest. “That morning, I was preparing to go to him. I had fresh juice and hot food ready. I was already leaving the house when someone called and said, ‘Come, take your boy’s body from the hospital.’”

Harutyun’s funeral photograph in his mother’s hands

The call shocked the family, as they believed Harutyun’s condition was improving. The cause of his death remains unclear. “He was talking with us, making jokes. At the hospital, they said that he died from a virus. No one has told us yet what specific virus it was. They also told us that it’s possible he inhaled fire and died from that,” Ira said.

She last saw her son on Dec. 7, when he was being moved to the intensive care unit. “He already had devices on him. He was looking at me and couldn’t say anything.

When I saw him last, he was crying, as if to say goodbye.”

Harutyun’s tombstone in Ranchpar village

The family buried Harutyun in Ranchpar village because they could not secure a grave in Yerevan. “They didn’t give us the death certificate for a long time,” Ira explained. “When we finally got it, we barely found a place in the village where my sister lives. Some time after the funeral, village officials told me that we needed to exhume Harutyun because we didn’t have registration in the village and it’s not permitted to keep his body in the village cemetery.

How can a parent bury their child multiple times?

Can you imagine? We barely managed to get a death certificate in my sister’s name to secure a grave in the village.”

“I took my boys’ military uniforms from our house and Harutyun’s towel; then, we left”

Harutyun’s towel in Ira’s hands

The Ohanyan family had been displaced from Tumi village in the Hadrut region in 2020 and settled in Stepanakert. Due to health problems, Harutyun was exempted from mandatory military service. However, he voluntarily enlisted during the 44-day war, remaining at Lisagor positions until the last day. During the one-day war of September 2023, he helped women and children in shelters. “He found and brought blankets and underwear for the children, scrounged food and water from here and there, played with the children, kept them occupied,” his father, Robert, recalled.

Robert holds up a screen showing a photo of Harutyun (middle)

Ira remembers Sept. 25 vividly. It was pouring rain, and the family was preparing to leave Stepanakert. Without a car, they had to wait for the buses. “Roman suddenly received a call from an unknown number. It was Harutyun. He said there had been a strong explosion, he had severe burns and he was going to the hospital.”

Harutyun had gone to Berkadzor to bring gasoline for a friend. At first, his brother didn’t believe it, then went with their parents to Stepanakert’s Republican Hospital, where they found Harutyun in the reception area. Ira said that it was unimaginable — even in the worst of nightmares — what they witnessed that day. “I was shouting his name when I saw my son, half-naked but conscious. He was even talking to me.”

Harutyun at Astghik Medical Center

Ira stayed with her son at the hospital. After two days, Harutyun was airlifted to Armenia and the family followed, hoping to join him. 

A week after treatment began, doctors said that they needed to remove one of his fingers; a month later, they required a transplant. “We didn’t ask any questions about why they needed to perform the procedures. I wanted my son to be saved,” Ira said.

Harutyun in his military uniform

The transplant surgery was successful. It gave Ira hope that Harutyun may start walking soon. “Roman’s DNA matched, and they performed the surgery. His condition was very good in November,” she explained. But a month later, they told the family that Harutyun was infected with a virus. “One day, they called and said that Harutyun is no longer alive.

They brought the coffin closed; they didn’t let me see my son one last time. We buried him on Dec. 10, but they still haven’t given us the death certificate.”

Harutyun’s shirt in his brother’s hands

The family considered suing the hospital, but Ira decided against it, saying that nothing could bring back her son. Now, they find comfort in memories and photographs. “My son often comes to me in my dreams; he talks to me. He was very attached to me. I miss him very much. Several times a day, I play videos of him and listen to his voice. I still have hope that, one day, there will be justice and they will tell me what my son died from.”