A year without Max Nelipa: family in Israel, daughter with an order from Zelensky, and pain that documents do not cover

May 12, 2026 marked a year since the death of Max Nelipa — a Ukrainian TV host, actor, and serviceman who voluntarily went to defend Ukraine after the start of the full-scale war. To viewers, he was a man from the screen, a recognizable voice and face of Ukrainian television. To his family, he was a father, son, brother, ex-husband, a person whose absence is now felt in every daily movement.

This story is especially close to the Israeli audience. Details were shared by Ukrainian OBOZ.UA on May 12, 2026.

Nelipa’s ex-wife, Toma, lives in Israel with their children. Son Artem serves in the Israeli army. Daughter Maria studies, grows up, works after school, and tries to move on, although the topic of her father returns in the most ordinary moments — in movies, conversations, memories, family details.

Life after loss: Ukraine remains in the heart, Israel has become a new reality

Toma Nelipa speaks about life in Israel without beautiful generalizations.

There is also war here, anxiety, high prices, a challenging rhythm, and the need to start almost from scratch. She is learning the language because in Israel it is not just a matter of comfort, but a matter of choice: work, communication, future.

Before the big war in Ukraine, Toma worked in the field of perfumery and cosmetics, dealing with brands, presentations, communications. Already in Israel, after several different jobs and a period of adaptation, she returned to the field close to her — cosmetics, care, sales, consultations. It’s work with people, where you need to listen to the client, react quickly, understand the mood.

There is a bitter irony in this. Once in Ukraine, she was involved in public events, artists, presentations. Now in Israel, she sells cosmetics. But it is this daily occupation that helps her stay on her feet when the conversation with her past life is still not over inside.

A daughter who is growing up too fast

Maria is almost 16. She is in the 10th grade, works part-time as a barista, makes coffee, and is already trying herself in the modeling field. A contract with an agency appeared almost on the same days her father died. This could have stopped, broken, made her postpone everything “for later.”

But Toma then told her daughter what many parents probably say after a loss: dad would be proud.

Masha became more independent, changed, grew up. But she didn’t miss him any less. The loss doesn’t go away just because the child studies, works, smiles at photoshoots, or makes plans. It just moves inside and appears unexpectedly — in a random movie scene, in a conversation about family, in a memory that cannot be predicted in advance.

A son in the Israeli army and fear familiar to many families in Israel

Max’s son, Artem, serves in the Israeli army. He is 21 years old, and a significant part of his service is already behind him.

But for the mother, it is not a dry line in her son’s biography, but endless days of waiting for messages, anxious news, periods when he did not get in touch, and fear that physically changes a person.

Toma recalls that once an acquaintance noticed: she suddenly turned gray. Not from age. From tension.

For Israeli families, this state is too familiar. The phone is nearby. The news is on. The heart reacts to every message. And if in Ukraine the family saved the children from the war, then in Israel they found themselves again in a country where the word “safety” never sounds final.

Artem has about six months of service left. This stage is more related to training: computers, programming, special preparation. But even in such periods, calmness in Israel is always conditional. Here they know too well how quickly silence can turn into anxiety.

Netanya, an old district, and a sunflower in the yard

The family lives in Netanya.

Compared to Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, the city may seem calmer, but this calmness is not absolute. There is no shelter nearby, only the synagogue basement where they can go during an alarm. Usually, they stay at home.

The area is simple, old, with inexpensive rent by Israeli standards. Somewhere nearby, chickens, roosters, sometimes goats walk. This is not the picture of Israel shown in tourist videos, but it is from such details that the real life of emigration consists.

In Toma’s yard, a sunflower grows. It is already over two meters tall. For her, it is not just a plant, but a small sign of Ukraine next to the palms. A home that is physically far away but emotionally has not disappeared.

An order from Zelensky, Kyiv, and bureaucracy after the death of a defender

Last fall, Toma and Masha visited Kyiv. Max’s daughter received a posthumous order of her father — the Order of Merit III degree — from the hands of the President of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelensky. For Maria, this trip was not a formality, but an opportunity to touch what is connected with her dad.

In the hall were military personnel, families of the deceased, people of culture. Some received awards personally, some — for their loved ones. The atmosphere was heavy but dignified. Such ceremonies do not remove the pain, but they give the feeling that a person’s name did not disappear along with the news of their death.

Toma hopes that when Artem completes his service in Israel, he will come to Kyiv — to his grandmother, to his father’s grave — and bring this award himself. There is an internal correctness in this: a son who served in the Israeli army comes to a father who died defending Ukraine.

NANews — News of Israel | Nikk.Agency sees in this story not only the personal tragedy of a famous Ukrainian family. Here, Ukraine, Israel, war, emigration, children’s service, memory of the deceased, and the thin connection between countries that runs through the destinies of specific people intertwine.

Kyiv, cemetery, and Max’s belongings

The trip to Kyiv became a return for Toma to a space where everything is familiar and at the same time already different. She met Max’s mother, went to the cemetery, walked along Khreshchatyk, ate Kyiv perepichka, missed the usual city details that suddenly become almost symbols in emigration.

In the apartment, she sorted through Max’s belongings. Among them was a special black-and-white photograph taken many years ago on a fishing trip. Such items are the hardest to touch. They are no longer just things, but evidence of a time that will no longer be.

Toma admits: even years after the divorce, she cannot completely let go of Max. They parted ways long ago, but their shared life, children, memories, and his death made this connection different. Not familial in the former sense, but very deep.

Max’s brother: after grief begins the system of documents

Max’s brother, Andrey Nelipa, speaks about the side of loss that is usually not visible in the news. People read about the death, express condolences, see ceremonies. But for the family, something else begins: papers, checks, approvals, applications, status and payment processing.

According to him, many believe that the families of fallen defenders automatically receive the assistance provided by the state. In practice, everything is much more complicated. The procedure can be delayed, require many documents, and go through several levels of the system.

This does not negate respect for the military, ritual services, or individual people who help. The problem is deeper — in the bureaucratic structure itself, which often turns out to be too burdensome for families already living in grief.

Max’s mother lost her husband in 2020, and now her younger son. She is 76, has had heart attacks, and her relatives understand how much this loss hits not only the soul but also health. But she holds on. Like many Ukrainian mothers, for whom the war has become a personal family catastrophe.

Max is remembered by friends, comrades, colleagues, viewers. On the anniversary day, relatives plan to visit the grave, and those who knew him personally or just want to pay tribute may come. The monument is still in progress, but the grave is well-kept.

The main thing in this story is not a loud name. The main thing is that behind every fallen defender stands a family that continues to live after the most terrible call. Living in Israel and Ukraine. Learning the language, going to work, serving in the army, going to school, receiving orders, processing documents, buying flowers at the cemetery, and every day understanding anew that the person is no longer there.

Max Nelipa would have turned only 50.