Menu
SISTER BARBARA IS DEAD
more:.
NEWS
A lot is going on
The school year in this part of India, where Jeevodaya is situated, begins on July 1st
The school year in this part of India, where Jeevodaya is situated, begins on July 1st
more:.
| India have been empty |
|
I learnt about father Marian’s death during my holidays in Poland.
It was a shock.
Very painful.
I cannot define it in a different way.
Suddenly time stopped.
Nothing happened.
Only my ears were rumbling: father Marian has gone to the Lord.
I will not meet him anymore.
No one would be so close,
so good,
so friendly in Puri anymore,
on the Bay of Bengal.
Then,
the request for bearing witness of his life during a mass at the Saint Cross Basilica in Warsaw.
It was barely impossible.
On the previous day I had my wrist operated on and my hand was in plaster.
At the end of the mass I understood that I have to witness.
After a few words my voice cracked.
I just told that Puri,
India have been empty to me since his death.
I knew that after my holidays I would come back to another reality.
I knew that I would have to go to Puri one day to see how they manage after the loss of the father; to help if there would be such a need.
I knew that his visit would hurt,
but I didn’t want to avoid it.
Time came then,
in November 2006.
I double-checked if I could stay in the retreat house, father Marian’s last work, blessed in January 2006. Father Kurian was happy when I called him. He assured me that there was room for me and that they were waiting for me. I wanted to know whether the closest co-worker of father Marian was on the premises, if I would meet him. I was overcome by emotion when I heard Lalit’s voice in the receiver: „where would I be if not in father Marian’s matters?” He immediately told me that he wasn’t present at his death. This faithful Lalit, accompanying father Marian everywhere, whose plan of life was fitting tight to the father’s needs, was absent at this very moment! We met at the railway station – hardly ever had I moved alone from there. Father Marian had been usually picking me up, either himself or his car had already been waiting at the airport in Buhaneswar, whenever it happened to me to arrive by plane. The train had been delayed for 3 hours, father Kurian and Lalit were waiting. I obtained a room in the house, on the ground floor and an immediate invitation for lunch – it was meal time. Despite the presence of two Italian people, who came for a few days, the discussion has developed immediately around matters important for 7 months. Lalit is a foster child, a friend, he has been peforming the function of secretary, driver, sometimes even councellor... for 25 years. On the day before father Marian’s death, he went to Calcutta in order to meet his younger brother arriving from Australia for his wedding which was to be blessed in a few days by father Marian himself. All had been prepared, the plane ticket for father Marian was bought for the 6th of May. At around 11 at night they were speaking through the phone, when Lalit was waiting for his brother at the airport. Father Marian ended the conversation: „I won’t call you anymore” and Lalit’s voice is quivering while he is adding: „and in fact he hasn’t called me anymore”. For the next three days, Lalit is taking me everywhere, and finally he takes me to the railway station – as it was during all my visits. However, each time we were together inside the car or by the table, in the corridor or in front of the office, one topic was still coming back: how this all has changed in his life. He recollects all important moments, he was not able to change the subject. I understand that my presence enhanced this recurring wave. The work and the place remain the same – but you could feel this lack of the Man, who stood behind everything there, whose visions and dreams had been realized so persistently together. Seven long months have passed – the feeling of lack, emptiness is always the same... Father Kurian was at father Marian’s side in the very moment of his death – it is a special award for sharing the community of life and work for three years. Then he fixed everything personally. He tells me about the first moments after his death, the funeral and how he undertook his work after his return to Puri. I had a few questions, I felt sad that they had chosen his place of burial so remote from Puri. I learnt that father Marian expressed such will himself on various occasions and to different people – my doubts were dispelled. In fact, no one is ever prepared to the departure of a close person. However much we can try to imagine this, the very moment of the departure is not predictable. We can thank God for the miracle of life, but after the death of a beloved person, one feels lonely and abandoned. Father Kurian tells me that he often feels the blessing of father Marian in this work. All those who used to come everyday or occasionally to father Marian are presently coming up with their problems to father Kurian. Nevertheless, they are not free from comparisons, which can be very weighing down. In accordance with the authorities of the Verbist Congregation and the local Bishop, after several days he undertook to continue the work of father Marian. There are many human-related issues of the utmost urgency, commitments, which must be taken up. They have decided to leave the place where father Marian was living as it was on the day of his departure to the House of God. His modest little room, where he was sleeping and seeing enquirers and guests, a small dinning room adjacent to it as well as a guest room next to it – all these rooms, linked together, will form a father Marian’s memory room with an exhibition illustrating his life and achievements. Now, in the guest room, there is the father Kurian’s temporary office, constantly besieged with enquirers. Fears and anxieties about the future of all actions initiated and developed by father Marian are inevitable. Many Poles and other Benefactors have committed themselves into helping him. Will thy continue their commitment or will they not have enough funds for the everyday bread to the most needy, for supporting the education of children in the leper colony? May patients still count on drugs, dressings and orthopaedic footwear? And if a monsoon damages the roof of a house, would anybody provide help? Will the garden and the spinning mill, sewing room remain – who will care for the market for the products? During my visit to the colony, people were recognizing me although I tried to stay unnoticed. I understand the orija language – women and children were stopping me and I could hear a complaint, a deep sorrow in their voices: our father is no more here. Several men joined to them and everyone wanted to tell how they much they were touched by the loss of the father and how they were living at present. In the mercy kitchen, the same man without fingers conducts the register of people in need of everyday meal. There are a lot of them. In the small hospital, paramedics and the auxiliary staff told me how they were coping. I pop into the school for a while. In the boarding school there are 55 children, most of them boys. There are such, enrolled this scholar year, who had not met father Marian. Most of them immediately associate me with Poland, the country of father Marian. On Sunday, I take part in the Eucharist in the Parish church, so important and so close – this is the first work of father Marian in Puri, his pride and at a large extent a gift from Poland. Father Marian was once colourfully telling me the story of the creation, transport and installation of the interior decor elements, the problems and joy after finishing it. I like this church so much, each element is so familiar to me. In the following days, the mass is celebrated in the ashram. A photo of father Marian accompanies us under the altar. It is so cosy everywhere, I feel so at ease there as I can still feel his presence, walk on his clear footprints. I can meet people whom he loved and who loved him. Manju is crying when telling about the great loss – „no one will ever love us so much as he did”. He recollects the days when they were watching him over, overwhelmed by fear and praying warmly when he was ill. Surendra cried after the farewell only. Does he consider this small bread that father Marian used to have it baked for me as his testament? He was grief-stricken that he didn’t know that I was to leave so unexpectedly: „I would have baked one this morning” he sobbed, but he looked at me carefully and understood that it was not I who expected something for myself, that for me the fact that father Marian is no more here is also a big change. So, he only asked that in future I would ALWAYS tell him… (HP) |
Projekt & cms: www.zaler.pl
Instytut Prymasa Wyszyńskiego
Sekretariat Misyjny Jeevodaya
ul. Młodnicka 34, 04-239 Warszawa
PLN 16 1020 1097 0000 7102 0004 8736
EUR 74 1020 1097 0000 7302 0124 1082
Sekretariat Misyjny Jeevodaya
ul. Młodnicka 34, 04-239 Warszawa
PLN 16 1020 1097 0000 7102 0004 8736
EUR 74 1020 1097 0000 7302 0124 1082