A bond among sisters, a means of support

The five sisters in the Botvina family were inseparable.

Since they immigrated to the United States from Russia with their parents, Leonid and Lyubov Botvina, in 1993, the girls saw each other through school, jobs, marriage and children, keeping in close contact several times a week, family members say.

Now they are supporting each other through the killings Monday of two of their sisters, Lyubov Botvina and Olga Milkin, and Milkin's two small children, Justin and Andrew.

Instead of celebrating Milkin's birthday today, the family is preparing for a funeral Sunday.

"I had five girls, and I had five grandsons," said Lyubov Botvina, the matriarch of the family. "They were wonderful daughters. I lost a treasure in my life."

Just a day before the slayings and fire at the Kirkland home, family members were all at Milkin's house; the sisters stayed until late, chatting for hours just as they always have.

"We shared everything we could between each other," said Yelena Shidlovsky, 30, the oldest sister. "I am so thankful that God gave us such an opportunity to help each other and be close."

Memorial services


Services for the family will be at 3:30 p.m. Sunday at The City Church, 9051 132nd Ave. N.E., Kirkland. The burial will follow.

A memorial fund has been set up by the family at U.S. Bank under the name "Kirkland House Fire Victims." Also, the Washington Army National Guard set up a financial-assistance fund in Leonid Milkin's name at the American Lake Credit Union in Camp Murray near Tacoma. The account number is 13743.

Milkin had been excited that her husband, Leonid, was to come home from Iraq in about six weeks.

They also discussed Milkin's upcoming birthday, Shidlovsky recalled. Milkin would have been 29 today.

"She said: 'Am I going to be 30? No I'll be 29,' " Shidlovsky recalled.

They all laughed that she couldn't remember.

"We said: You're too young to forget how old you are," Shidlovsky said.

The second youngest, Lyubov Botvina, 24, was staying with Milkin for the summer, helping her sister with the two boys.

The younger Lyubov shared her mother's name, which her mother said is unusual in her culture.

After three daughters, the family hoped for a son. Someone told them that if they named their fourth daughter after the mother, the next child would be a boy.

"But it didn't happen," the mother said because her youngest daughter, Alla, 21, came next. The third-youngest daughter is Vita Petrus, 27.

The mother's namesake, known as Luba, was always studying and reading, dedicated to obtaining a linguistics degree at Seattle Pacific University where she was a sophomore.

She also worked as a Russian interpreter at local hospitals and was active in a youth group at the Christian Faith Center in Everett.

"She spent so much time reading and studying. We would say, 'Why don't you go out and enjoy life?' but she would say that she had a test or a midterm," Shidlovsky recalled.

Luba Botvina had a lot of friends from church but never dated, family members said.

Whenever anyone asked why, she would say her priority was finishing her education, her mother said.

But Luba Botvina found time to take her nephews on outings, like walks at Green Lake or roller-skating.

Milkin was always the first to volunteer to help someone in need, Shidlovsky said.

"If they need to be comforted, she would be there. If it was urgent, she would say 'I can do it' and think of a way to arrange to do that," Shidlovsky said.

The family marveled at how Milkin cared for her children while her husband was overseas for a year and a half.

She worked as an orthodontist assistant and would arrange for a sitter when she had to work. But a month ago, Milkin quit her job to devote all her time to her kids, Shidlovsky said.

"She felt her kids needed her. She was so excited to go biking in the morning and swimming in the afternoon.

"And in the evening, she would find activities for them or read stories to the kids," Shidlovsky recalled. "I'm a working mom, and I know what that means. I was so happy for her to actually input so much into her kids' lives."

Milkin was dedicated to her children's education, said Mark Twain Elementary School kindergarten teacher Kelly Luiten, who taught Justin last school year.

Milkin would call Luiten at least twice a week to make sure her son was doing well and making friends. She would often drop off big boxes of cookies to the classroom.

"I had her phone number programmed in my cellphone and we would just talk," Luiten said.

Justin Milkin, who would have turned 6 on Aug. 29, was one of the younger children in Luiten's class, but he possessed one of the biggest personalities, his teacher said.

He was funny. He always smiled. He was curious about everything. He loved to chase the girls. He loved to be chased, his teacher said.

"Two of his best friends in class were little girls," Luiten said.

Both boys were proud of their father's service, teachers said. During spirit week at the school, the students were all told to dress in sports uniforms. Justin showed up in his father's flak jacket from the National Guard, and he wore a beret and his father's dog tags.

"It was his idea," Luiten said. "It was a hot day, and he wore it all day long."

Pepper Snider, a teacher's helper at the Lake Washington High School Little Roo's preschool that Andrew Milkin attended, said the 3-year-old often pretended to be his father, showing off would-be muscles and doing push-ups.

"He would say that his dad was away fighting the bad guys and talk about how he was scared that his dad was away," Snider said.

The boys' paternal uncle Danny Milkin often looked after the boys. The family said Andrew looked just like Danny Milkin when he was a boy.

"I can't take the fact that I will never see them again," Danny Milkin said. "They've destroyed our family. They've ripped us apart."

The family was very religious. For the past year, Olga Milkin made a point to attend both an American and a Russian church. Every Sunday she would attend morning service at The City Church in Kirkland and in the afternoon she would go to Russian services at the Church of the Living God in Bothell, Shidlovsky said.

One day at school, a teacher told Luiten she had just witnessed something striking. The teacher saw Justin kneel down and make the sign of the cross, Luiten said. When she asked him what he had been doing, Justin replied: "I'm just talking to God."

"There were 60 kids out there playing and he could have been wrapped up doing that, but he went off and found time to be by himself," Luiten said. "He was young but he understood more beyond his years."

Seattle Times reporters Rachel Tuinstra and Peyton Whitely contributed to this report.

Lisa Chiu: 206-464-3347 or lchiu@seattletimes.com