Letter to Luana, who died at 22 while working

They say about you that you were always smiling, kind and enthusiastic about this life that broke too quickly and unjustly that damned May 3rd. You that you smiled at the world and at the people, that you woke up eagerly every morning even to go to work, despite your young age, despite you also had the right to complain sometimes.

You were only 23 Luanaindeed, you had not yet completed them. And maybe, like so many other peers your age, you liked the idea of ​​being able to add that extra number when someone asked you how old you were, to feel older, you who were great already. Because that general dissatisfaction that wanders among kids your age just didn’t belong to you.

You were so grateful for life, despite the ups and downs. You were strong and brave, like all extraordinary dreams that belonged to you: this is how those who knew you tell you. And you loved Donatello, that beautiful child who was your joy and your future, the same one who inherited your big eyes and that contagious smile. That child who now, at just 5 years old, will have to learn to get by without you, his beacon in the night.

And you, Luana, how many beautiful things you were destined to do? Just you who never got tired of going to that textile company in Montemurolo every day. You who were happy to be back to work after the months of closure due to the pandemic, you who prepared the cakes and brought them to your colleagues and who shared those everyday snapshots through your social profiles.

You who could not have known that that damn Monday morning, it would have been the last of your life, that you would become a victim of that job you loved so much. Your name will become yet another one to read and remember among the more than two million people who die every year due to an accident at work (ILO).

Dear Luana, this letter is for you and for your untimely death which was a tragedy. Everyone has rushed to you, for you, to save you. Because your life could not end in that textile machine that has turned into a deadly machine.

Technicians, colleagues, friends and family, all have prayed for you, to see again and again that wonderful smile printed on your visa. But the prayers were not enough and the tragedy was consummated. Your absence in that house, and in the lives of the people who loved you, it will be heavier than anything else in the world.

And the inquiries, fines and compensation do not count, because your life was worth more than anything else. And we assure you that with this letter, we will always remember it.

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