Don’t worry about my funeral

A suicide note written by 12-year-old Stefan Ciure to his mother, after she left him in Romania to work as a house cleaner in Rome.  Stefan took a picture of himself with his cell phone, pinned the note and picture to his shirt and hanged himself with a leather horsewhip from a cherry tree.

His mother:  “Stefan’s death is the tragedy of my life, but I left because I was poor and couldn’t feed my children.”

Stefan’s suicide note, pragmatic, carefully thought through, considerate. He the young man of the household makes sure his funeral expenses are covered so not to spend any of his mother’s hard earned money. For his sister he gives advice: “Study.” He warns his mother about the harsh world, the stoic voice, he the young man of the household. Then comes the request from the child ”PLEASE CARE FOR MY PUPPY”

Stefan, child, youngman: how could you leave your puppy behind, that’s a tortuous decision I think a 12 year old would never-ever come too. Stefan how could you?

Because; because your mother left someone she loves behind; because the only warmth you’ve known, held and that held you abandoned you to the care of an alcoholic father; because you exist in a small overcrowded unkempt cheerless house with little resource to heat its frigid walls; because you sentence yourself to isolation in your own room for days on end; because.

In Romania, Children Left Behind Suffer the Strains of Migration
The New York Times