A farewell with a Neşet Ertaş folk song: Ceremony held for Sırrı Süreyya Önder at the AKM

DEM Party Istanbul MP Sırrı Süreyya Önder, who was hospitalized on the evening of April 15 following a heart condition and kept in intensive care after a 12-hour surgery, passed away yesterday (May 3) at approximately 16:10 due to multiple organ failure. 

Önder's body was retrieved from the hospital this morning and brought to the Atatürk Cultural Center (AKM) for the 11:00 ceremony. Late last night, it was observed that Gezi Park was closed off with police barriers.

RELATED NEWS - Gezi Park closed ahead of the ceremony to be held for Sırrı Süreyya Önder at the AKM

Following the ceremony at the AKM, Önder's funeral will be held at the Barbaros Hayrettin Paşa Mosque in Levent, after which he will be laid to rest at the Zincirlikuyu Cemetery.

The crowd at the AKM was captured on camera from the morning hours; Ahmet Türk, who is undergoing cancer treatment, also attended the ceremony.

SPEAKERS AT THE CEREMONY

At the ceremony held for Önder, his daughter Ceren Önder Kandemir, DEM Party Imralı Delegation member Pervin Buldan, DEM Party Co-Chairs Tuncer Bakırhan and Tülay Hatimoğulları, actor-screenwriter Levent Kazak, and director Berkun Oya are scheduled to speak.

COFFIN BROUGHT INTO THE HALL

Önder's coffin was brought into the hall. His brother and daughter stood at the head of the coffin.

ÖZGÜR ÖZEL ATTENDED THE CEREMONY

The first item brought into the hall was a wreath prepared on behalf of Minister of Culture and Tourism Mehmet Nuri Ersoy. Tuncay Özkan was among the first MPs to arrive from the CHP. CHP Chairman Özgür Özel, TİP Chairman Erkan Baş, and CHP members Ali Mahir Başarır and Özgür Çelik also attended the ceremony.

Goodbye Brother Sırrı! Oxir be Birayê Sırrı! https://t.co/QD4RVTI1J8

— DEM Party (@DEMGenelMerkezi) May 4, 2025

CEREN ÖNDER READ THE LETTER SHE WROTE TO HER FATHER

At Önder's ceremony, his daughter Ceren Önder Kandemir took the podium. Cries of 'Stand tall' rose from the crowd to support Önder, who spoke through tears. She began reading the letter she had written to her father, saying, 'I know you can hear me, Dad.'

'Whenever I wrote something, I would call my father and read it aloud to him over the phone. We were like one person; it was as if I were reading to myself, and while reading it to him, I would see my mistakes. I wrote him a letter last week. I want to read it to you.'

'Now I am reading it aloud to him. I know you can hear me, Dad. Dad, all the color of life has faded. The life I knew is over. A new life is beginning now. It is full of frightening uncertainties. It is a life without you, where the possibility of hearing things I have never heard before from you has vanished.'

'For as long as I can remember, I have been afraid of losing you. This was my only nightmare, my weakness, the ache in my nose, the lump in my throat, the knot in my stomach. You were so good, so unique, that I used to say this man could only cause me pain by dying.'

'The sound of the violin, the cümbüş, and the oud you played late at night, the poems you recited from memory in one breath, the coffee shops we visited five times a day with the excitement of having just met each time, your inability to fit into houses, your inability to bear hurting anyone, your tireless kindness, your inability to hold a grudge against anyone.'

'You were even more afraid of hurting someone's dignity than you were of breaking a heart. I would call and say, "Dad, my heart is broken." "Dad, I have the flu." "Dad, my cough won't go away." "Dad, my cat died." "Dad, I fell in love." "Dad, I can't sleep."

'I have had my fill of your fatherhood. What you have given until now is enough not just for me, but even for my son and his child. You satisfied me until I no longer needed a father.'

'Whenever I wrote something, I would call my father and read it aloud to him over the phone. We were like one person; it was as if I were reading to myself, and while reading it to him, I would see my mistakes. I wrote him a letter last week. I want to read it to you. Now I am reading it aloud to him. I know you can hear me, Dad.'

Whenever I wrote something, I would call my father and read it aloud to him over the phone. We were like a single person; I would read it as if I were reading to myself, and I would spot the mistakes while reading. I wrote him a letter last week. I want to read it to you. Now, I am reading it to him aloud. I know you hear me, Father. Father, all the color of life is gone. The life I knew is over. A new life is beginning now.

It is full of frightening unknowns. It is a silence where the possibility of hearing something from you that I have never heard before has vanished. Ever since I can remember, I have been afraid of losing you. This was my only nightmare, my weakness, the ache in my nose, the lump in my throat, the pain in my stomach. You were so good, so unique, that I used to say this man could only cause me pain by dying. The sound of the violin, the cümbüş, the oud you played late at night, the poems you recited from memory in one breath, the coffee shops we went to five times a day with the excitement as if we had just met each time, your inability to fit into houses, your inability to bear hurting anyone, your lack of laziness in doing good, your inability to hold a grudge against anyone, your fear of hurting someone's dignity even more than breaking their heart.

I would call and say, 'Father, my heart is broken.' 'Father, I have the flu.' 'Father, my cough won't go away.' 'Father, my cat died.' 'Father, I fell in love.' 'Father, I couldn't sleep.' I had my fill of your fatherhood. What you have given so far is enough not just for me, but even for my son and his child. You satisfied me until I no longer needed a father.

But I could not get enough of your friendship. Can one ever get enough of that friendship? Now I want to get angry. The Peace Protocol will be signed in two weeks. Then we will be at ease. I will also have surgery. I want to be angry at you for saying, 'What will happen in two weeks?' I want to be angry at the hunger strikes, the prisons, the tortures. I want to be angry at you for not taking care of yourself at all. I cannot. I cannot be angry because of a letter you sent me from Kandıra Prison.

You said, 'You wouldn't want a father who has no path to follow, no purpose, but is always by your side.' Wouldn't I want you not to have to leave now? For those who feel anger toward you, is this the anger of poverty and deprivation? You weren't harboring hatred inside, were you? In a life spent with poverty, deprivation, and orphanhood since birth, where did you hide your anger? I never saw it.

Probably in your heart. You are leaving this world, Father, without acquiring a single piece of property, without buying a second coat, without asking for anything from anyone, without debt, and without feeding your throat but rather your dignity.

I told you I loved you every day; I kissed and smelled you to my heart's content. Now, let all my colors be yours, too. Although, you will find your friends there as well. Where is sister Gülten? Where is sister Pervin? Rest now, my crane bird. We will be fine. I will always tell the children about you."

"HE HAD ONE DESIRE, AND THAT WAS PEACE"

Following the speech by Önder's daughter Ceren, Sırrı Süreyya Önder's older brother, Ali Önder, took the podium to speak. Regarding his brother, he said, 'He had one aspiration, and that was peace,' and added, 'If he were here right now, he would say: Greetings to those who love me and to those who revile me.'

DEM Party Co-Chair Tülay Hatimoğulları took the podium to deliver her speech.

Hatimoğulları's speech for Önder was as follows:

"Millions saw you as their own story, and your life story was also their life story. Your life story was the story of the workers, laborers, women, the poor, and the marginalized peoples and faiths living in this geography. That is why there is so much heartache. That is why our collective heartache is so deep. You managed to overcome every pain and every ache. We believed with all our hearts that you would overcome this too, but it was not to be.

And banners were written. Messages were posted on social media for you. They said, 'Hold on, brother Sırrı,' 'Hold on, father Sırrı,' 'Hold on, Babuş,' and 'Hold on, Envoy of Peace.' We know you held on very hard, but it was not to be. And dear Sırrı Süreyya Önder, your illness played a great unifying role in society. Even while you were ill, you united society.

Because, no matter what, you pushed for peace in these lands. For the Turk, for the Kurd, for the Arab, and for millions of people you did not know. For those in prison, for your friends and comrades in exile. And you strove to dry the tears of Kurdish mothers and Turkish mothers whose tears never ceased. You strove so that their faces might smile, if only a little. Yes, Sırrı, my teacher. You held firmly to the call for peace and a democratic society.

You tried very hard to make it a reality. Your body could only endure so much biologically, but your belief in peace remains vibrant and alive, on the verge of realization. The price you paid in this struggle is great. I respectfully commemorate you and all our loved ones and comrades who paid a price in this struggle. I bow with respect before all of them, especially you."

Yes, dear friends, the path of peace, justice, and democracy is narrow, long, stony, and thorny. Each one touched your skin and your heart. You smiled. You said, 'They all come from the homeland.' Even if the pain coming from the homeland was bitter, you turned it into honey. You said, 'We will succeed, we will find peace,' and you never gave up on that. Because you were aware of the dangers awaiting this country. Because you were aware of the ground of war and conflict into which they want to drag the beautiful Middle East—which is already being fanned by flames—and you were aware of all those who are doing this. And you understood the pain being experienced very well.

You were aware that the Turks, Kurds, Sunnis, Alevis—that is, every segment of society—needed peace and that peace would be a breath of fresh air for everyone. That is why your heart was wounded, that is why your heart grew weary. You worked and struggled, but you always told us this: 'This time it will happen. This time we will succeed,' you said. 'I swear by God, we will succeed,' you said. And we believe in this, dear Sırrı Süreyya Önder.

I swear by God, we will succeed together. And I give you my word. Your words will never be in vain, Sırrı teacher. I promise you, this time we will definitely succeed. And I promise you, Sırrı teacher. Let this be a promise to all our comrades and loved ones we lost in this struggle. Let it be our promise to everyone who paid the price and shed their blood on these lands. This time, peace will surely come.

This is a promise to all the peoples whose blood and lives have intertwined on these lands. The seeds of peace sown in these lands by Sırrı teacher and countless other peace envoys and laborers whose names I cannot mention here will surely sprout, and we will turn these seeds of peace into saplings. We will turn them into a colorful garden of flowers.

And I promise you, Sırrı teacher. I promise you that the lands of Anatolia and Mesopotamia will be kneaded with the peace they deserve. They will all reach the peace they deserve together. The brotherhood of peoples you believed in with all your heart will surely and absolutely find life in these lands. Let this be our promise to you. Goodbye, Sırrı teacher. Goodbye, our dear comrade. We will never forget you."

Tuncer Bakırhan: I PROMISE YOU SIRRI, PEACE WILL WIN

Following Hatimoğulları's speech, Tuncer Bakırhan took the podium to deliver his remarks. "It is quite difficult to speak in the presence of a master of words like Sırrı Süreyya, but I would like to say a few words for two or three minutes," he said, beginning his speech in Kurdish before continuing in Turkish.

Bakırhan's speech was as follows:

"Very esteemed party chairs, very esteemed guests from all parties present here. Sırrı Süreyya's artist friends, fellow travelers, and our peoples who have fought for peace together. May we all have patience. I know. I am certain that for the past 18 days, I have personally witnessed the prayers offered from every corner of Turkey for our comrade Sırrı to regain his health."

From Siirt to Kars, from Tekirdağ to Çorum, Sırrı was actually waging a struggle for peace, but now he is a symbol of peace itself. I hope that we will all bring the peace he left unfinished—but which we will bring to success—to these lands and this geography one day, and I believe we will dedicate it to all those who lost their lives in the struggle for peace, in the person of Sırrı.

It is very difficult, of course. Speaking in the presence of a master of words like Chairman Sırrı is truly quite difficult. Therefore, asking for your patience, I will read a 2-3 minute text. It is a text where I have noted down my speeches and my feelings. My dear fellow traveler. Believe me, it is quite difficult to speak in the presence of a master of words like you. While the world loses its elegance day by day, you were dedication from head to toe.

You were a joy of life that healed us all. Your struggle was as deep-rooted as the land you grew up in and the stories you told. Those who have many trials also have many stories, just like you, my comrade Sırrı. You were like a Dengbej, a storyteller. You loved to tell the stories of all the colors of Turkey. You were a master of narrative.

In every word you used, in every expression on your face, there were traces of the entire geography you lived in. As your dear friend Murat Han Mungan said, you knew both the tree and the forest, and their equivalents in language. In your image, there was a childhood that never faded, but most of all, peace was hidden. It was 10 years ago.

You had set out on the roads for peace again. In Dolmabahçe, you had voiced the words that would be a balm to the most ancient wound of this country with hope and honor. We said, 'This time it will happen.' The mountains, the people, and even death itself had grown tired; now peace would win. On that very day, February 28, 2015, just as peace was within reach, we lost Yaşar Kemal. You know, Yaşar Abi had a novel titled 'The Euphrates Flows Blood-Red'.

I want to bid you farewell with the sentences from that book, my dear comrade, my fellow traveler. Because my words are not enough to describe you. As Yaşar Kemal said, 'As much as a single person suffers, all people suffer.' Is not all of humanity killed along with one person?

'To fight against war, to fight against killing without killing, has been the most beautiful idea created by these lands,' says brother Yaşar. As our sister Ceren said, you dedicated yourself to peace and the peoples so that not a single person would suffer. You crossed islands, mountains, and cities to reach peace.

I promise you, the Euphrates will mingle with the Marmara. I promise you, Sırrı, peace will prevail. A day will come. We will all miss your joy and that beautiful heart that beat for peace very much. You have closed your eyes now, but we will continue to look at this country and its people through your eyes. Farewell, my comrade. I promise you, we will not leave this story unfinished. Greetings, love, and respect to you all.'

SOME ARTISTS ALSO ATTENDED THE CEREMONY

It was observed that members of the art community also attended the ceremony held for Önder, who was also a director. Mahsun Kırmızıgül also attended the ceremony at the AKM.

Following Bakırhan, screenwriter Levent Kazak also took the podium for Önder and delivered a short speech to commemorate him.

Director Berkun Oya took the stage in tears. Staying on stage for only a very short time, Berkun Oya apologized, touched Önder's coffin, and tearfully recounted a conversation they had. Oya, who remained on stage for a very brief moment, left the stage after finishing his remarks.

'I won't be able to say much today. He had told me—we had spoken on the phone two hours before he went to the hospital. Given his health condition and everything, I was very worried about him. I asked, 'How are you?' He said, 'Forget about me. I'm worried about you. I'm concerned.' 'Look, brother,' he said, 'If I've learned anything in this life, it's this: this life cannot be lived by worrying...'

PERVİN BULDAN: WE WILL CLASP THE HANDS OF THE POLICE OFFICER'S MOTHER AND THE GUERRILLA'S MOTHER TOGETHER

Afterward, Pervin Buldan, a member of the DEM Party Imralı Delegation, came to the stage to deliver her speech.

Buldan's speech was as follows:

"It is so hard to say goodbye to you, Sırrı. It is truly so hard. It is so difficult to say goodbye that I cannot bring myself to say it to you, Sırrı. You were my comrade. You were my fellow traveler. You were my confidant. You were my brother. You were my everything, Sırrı. You left me alone on this path we committed ourselves to together. You left us alone, Sırrı, the ancient friend of the Kurds. It is so hard to bid farewell to you, Sırrı, the ancient friend of the Kurdish people. You were not just Sırrı Süreyya Önder. You were the Turk, the Kurd, the Alevi."

You were the tree in Gezi Park right beside us. You were the rose, the flower. You were life and a comrade to the insects, to the flowers, and to everyone who has a beating heart and breathes the air. You lay in the intensive care unit of the hospital for 18 days with your wounded heart. But do you know what happened, Sırrı? You achieved social peace.

You brought every faith, every identity, and every culture together. Rest easy. Social peace has been achieved, Sırrı. But now it is time for the great peace. Do you know what your comrades said? They said, 'If a life is needed, we are ready to give our lives; if blood is needed, we are ready to give our blood.' But you did not accept any of it.

You did not ask for lives, nor did you ask for blood. You left us and went away. Now, a place has been reserved for you in the most beautiful corner of heaven. I know you will sleep in the most beautiful corner. Rest in peace, Sırrı. While you watch over us from there, laugh your beautiful laughs. Wave to us from there. And I know that you will always see us in a good light because we will realize your dreams. We will fulfill the legacy you left us.

We will realize your dreams of what you wanted to do in this country: to have the Turkish mother and the Kurdish mother join hands. We will clasp the hands of the police officer's mother and the guerrilla's mother together. I promise you, Comrade Sırrı. I promise you, the great peace will come to this country because you always dreamed of it.

May it be the duty of this country to realize your dreams. May it be the duty of the peoples of Turkey. You have placed such a heavy burden on my shoulders that we will carry this burden together with all the peoples. We will definitely bring peace to this country. Farewell, Sırrı, farewell! I kiss your beautiful eyes and your wounded heart, farewell."

HIS FAVORITE FOLK SONG WAS PLAYED

Önder's daughter played Neşet Ertaş's 'Allı Turnam,' the song she had played for her father during his 18 days in the hospital, for those attending the ceremony at the AKM. She expressed that Önder loved this song dearly. As the song played, Ceren stepped down from the stage, overcome with tears.