Heartbreak in Pula: Hauser’s Tearful Plea Shakes the World
“My dad… she’s too young to have to endure this…” Just 15 minutes ago in Pula, Croatia, Hauser left fans heartbroken and in tears, praying for his family after he shared the shocking news about his mother. The Croatian cellist, whose soul-stirring performances have captivated millions, posted a raw, unfiltered video from his hometown’s historic Arena Pula, his voice cracking with grief. At 39, Stjepan Hauser—known mononymously as HAUSER—revealed that his mother, Marija Hauser, a talented percussionist who had been the heartbeat of his musical upbringing, had been diagnosed with aggressive stage IV pancreatic cancer. The disease, often called the “silent killer” for its late detection, has spread rapidly, leaving the family in a whirlwind of treatments and uncertainty. As Hauser choked back sobs, clutching his cello like a lifeline, the world united in a digital vigil, his words echoing the universal ache of watching a parent fade too soon.
The announcement came like a thunderclap on October 12, 2025, during what was meant to be a triumphant homecoming concert. Hauser, fresh off a sold-out European tour blending classical mastery with pop anthems—think his viral takes on Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal” or Elton John’s “Rocket Man”—had returned to Pula, the Istrian coastal gem where he was born on June 15, 1986. The ancient Roman amphitheater, site of his poignant 2020 “Alone Together” livestream amid the pandemic, loomed as a symbol of resilience. But tonight, under a starlit sky heavy with Adriatic mist, Hauser abandoned the stage mid-rehearsal. His phone in hand, he filmed himself alone in the arena’s shadowed arches, the cello’s silhouette a ghostly companion. “My beautiful mama… she’s fighting, but God, she’s so young,” he whispered, tears carving paths down his stubbled cheeks. “Only 68. She taught me rhythm, life, everything. Dad’s lost without her. Pray for us, please.”
Marija Hauser’s story is woven into her son’s stardom. Born into a musical dynasty in post-war Yugoslavia, she mastered percussion, her beats a soundtrack to Stjepan’s childhood. When the boy, mesmerized by a radio cello’s “warm vibrations” at age 8, begged for lessons, Marija scoured Pula for a teacher, hauling him across dusty roads in their modest Fiat. “She was my first audience,” Hauser often shared in interviews, crediting her for his unorthodox fusion of genres. As half of 2CELLOS with Luka Šulić, he rocketed to fame in 2011 with a YouTube cover that amassed billions of views, but it was Marija who grounded him—knitting scarves for tour breaks, critiquing his improvisations over family dinners of grilled sardines and pašticada. Her pride shone in quiet moments: a 2023 Instagram post of her beaming at his Royal Albert Hall debut, captioned, “My boy’s strings sing louder than my drums ever could.”
The diagnosis blindsided them. Symptoms—subtle fatigue, unexplained weight loss—emerged during Hauser’s summer tour in July 2025. A routine check in Zagreb uncovered a pancreatic mass, the tumor’s aggression confirmed by biopsies at Split’s clinical hospital. “We thought it was stress from the road,” Hauser confessed in the video, his Croatian accent thickening with emotion. “Now, chemo, radiation—it’s all a blur.” Pancreatic cancer claims 50,000 American lives yearly, with a five-year survival rate under 12% for late stages; in Croatia, where healthcare strains under economic pressures, the odds feel steeper. Hauser’s father, Mario, a retired engineer and stoic pillar, has been by Marija’s side in Pula’s local clinic, their home now a fortress of IV stands and get-well cards from fans worldwide.
Social media ignited instantly. #PrayForMarija trended globally within minutes, amassing over 2 million posts on X and Instagram. Fans, from BTS stans discovering Hauser via his K-pop covers to classical purists, shared stories: “Your music healed me during chemo—now we heal your mom,” one wrote from Sydney. Fellow artists rallied—Andrea Bocelli offered a private Milan consultation with oncologists; 2CELLOS’ Šulić paused his solo gigs to fly in, posting a cello duet video captioned, “For Marija’s beat.” Even non-celebs chipped in: a GoFundMe for experimental immunotherapy surged past €500,000 in hours, funding trials at Vienna’s Medical University. Croatian President Zoran Milanović tweeted solidarity: “Hauser’s strings unite us; Marija’s strength inspires us all.”
Hauser’s vulnerability stripped away his performer’s armor. Known for magnetic charisma—long hair whipping as he shreds Vivaldi-meets-Metallica—the video showed a son unraveling. “She’s too young,” he repeated, echoing a grief too raw for polish. “Dad says, ‘Fight like you play, Stjepan’—fierce, no holding back.” It humanized the man whose 2020 pandemic streams from Pula’s arena raised spirits worldwide, blending Bach with Billie Eilish. Now, that same venue hosts prayers: locals lit candles at the arena gates, a impromptu vigil swelling to hundreds.
This crisis tests Hauser’s forged-in-fire spirit. From 2CELLOS’ explosive rise—arenas with U2, Grammys with Sting—to his 2020 solo Billboard No. 1 *HAUSER Classic*, he’s thrived on passion’s edge. Engaged to Italian soprano Benedetta Caretta since 2023, their duets a viral romance, he now leans on her: “Benedetta holds us when words fail.” Yet, the shadow of loss looms—Hauser’s aunt battled breast cancer a decade ago, a fight that honed his advocacy for early screenings.
As dawn breaks over Pula’s azure bay, Hauser’s plea lingers, a cello note unresolved. Marija’s battle rages, but her son’s voice has summoned a global chorus. Fans pray not just for remission, but for stolen moments—beach walks, drum lessons revisited. In Croatia’s sun-kissed stones, where Hauser first felt music’s pulse, hope flickers. “She’s my rhythm,” he ended the video, forcing a smile. “And rhythms don’t stop.” The world, teary-eyed, agrees—hold on, Marija. Your son’s symphony needs its beat.
