"When we returned to Amsterdam to my waiting and anxious mother, we told her everything. Mom, of course, cut short her retreat to meet us at home. . An investigation was launched about our father, but nothing was found or resolved. And Mom, instead of scolding me for my awful behaviour, drew me into an incredibly warm embrace. But there was still going to be a price to pay for my misbehaviour, as well as to facilitate healing for Melissa and I, because we were certainly traumatized. Arrangements had been already made, and the ecumenical Christian community to which she was connected in Switzerland had already agreed that we would live there with her, full time.
It was actually idyllic. We lived nestled in a rural community where people lived together in an assortment of chalets. They were very kind, generous, well-educated, and very engaged with the community. We were mentored and loved into recovery by these people. But it was going to be a long stay. Plus, I was able to enroll in the local college, where I graduated in journalism. Melissa later enrolled in artistic design, and now we both are able to work here from home.
We also first met Father Griffin, who you all know, in Switzerland. He was a long term guest during our second year there, and soon became a frequent flyer there. The man held an imposing presence, and was indeed charming and charismatic. Mom was immediately taken by him, and he presumed to become the father that Melissa and I had lost, indeed the father that we never really had. And we did grow to truly love him. But for me there remained a certain reserve towards this priest, who seemed to be the toast of our little community. No one, except Melissa, would even guess that I already knew him, nor under which set of circumstances I might have known the man.
No comments:
Post a Comment