The memories of yesterday are very, very precious to me. I spent a glorious day with my father. There will not be too many of these left for us but whatever time we have will be beyond price.
I was on the bus to Brantford early, at 8 am, and arrived there just in time to see my dad getting off the local bus. We then hopped onto another bus. This reminded me as to why I could never live in a city smaller than Hamilton - the transit system just plain sucks!! And yet, this is what my dad does on a daily basis; it takes him at least an hour to get to his favourite store, Walmart. We went there to have breakfast and to do shopping for me - he insisted!
And at his insistance, I bought a pack of socks and a pair of tights. He scorned that and told me to pick out something "pretty". Resigned, I went through the woman's clothing section and finally chose a beautiful silver-gray top with bling. At that point I discovered that while that department was huge, taking up a lot of floor space, there was not a skirt to be found! I couldn't believe it! Hundreds and hundreds of tops, blouses and sweaters, maybe four racks of pants that were totally unsuitable for me, even a couple of racks of dresses, but no skirts! Totally disappointed, I went to the electronics section and got some computer speakers. I felt much more at home there.
Anyways, I showed dad the blouse, and he cast a dubious glance at it. "A bit low-cut", he observed. I laughed, and asked what exactly he meant by that. Ah dads! Still so protective...Another two hours later of the torturous bus rides, we finally arrived at his apartment. There he got busy setting out the dinner he had made: beautiful stewed perch in a savory sauce, mashed potatoes, salad, peas, fresh bread and a glass of red wine (who said that red wine can't go with fish?). It was a joy to toast his health, and enjoy this wonderful repast with him! Leisurely, easily talking of many things, we shared this meal. French vanilla ice cream topped with fresh raspberries was the dessert.
I took the opportunity to straighten out his telephone woes after lunch, and then we settled down for more conversation. I must admit that at this point, I was hard-pressed to know what to talk about, when (praise the Goddess!) an opportunity opened up. He showed me a book he's reading on Leonardo Da Vinci and commented on his "The Last Supper". I asked if he's ever read "The Da Vinci Code", and while he didn't, he knew about it. "Of course, Mary Magdaline and Jesus were married and had a son!" he declared, as though there was absolutely no doubt about it! He went on to say that while he still considers himself a Christian, it's because of a life-long practice rather than any strong belief; he couldn't see how God could ever have a Son; that most of the Bible, especially the Old Testiment, was written by the Jewish people for the Jewish people and should remain there; that most of the sacred writings were butchered by the early Catholic church to suit its needs; that he didn't believe either in Hell or Paradise, that once he died there would be nothing. "You were Christian once," he finished off, "do you still believe in God?" Something in the way he said this led me to think that he knew something was different about me.
My mouth fell open at all these revelations - I was totally stunned!! I started laughing with sheer delight and responded, quite openly, that I was now a pagan. He didn't even flinch, and somehow instinctively understood what I meant. Nodding, he said, "In old Russia, before Christianity was around, there was a God ..." and we both said in unison, "Perum!" Now it was his turn to look at me in astonishment that I would know this. And words tumbled out of us both, as he too learned about me.
Somewhere in there, he said he would love to see me do a ritual or a workshop, and I promised him that this would be arranged. He loves the fact that I have taken up writing, and when I read him some of the works I had saved on the Notebook, although he didn't understand them entirely, declared that I speak with much strength, and urged me not to give this up.
I had a hard time keeping back tears.
He called me this morning to say how much he enjoyed the visit. "You have a good heart and love people. I can see now how happy this work makes you. You are not Baba Yaga but a Babushka!"
Yes, my dad understands and approves my Path!!
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