“Now receive Thy servant, O Lord”

For me, Valeriu was a very special man. I had many discussions with him, and I admit—I am a bit impulsive:

“What, boy, sometimes you have to throw a punch, and Christ got angry and threw a whip.”
“You’re right, maybe sometimes, but it was Christ, not you.”

There were moments that made one pause and reflect. In January 1952, I would visit him regularly, exchanging thoughts of value, not trivialities. He was in connection with others, some rebellious, some hostile, yet he sought reconciliation, embodying gentleness and the desire to live in harmony.

Valeriu spoke to me about the 1st of January:

“Nicolae, I have something to ask of you.”
“Tell me, Valea, anything.”
“You see, I had a special state in which I was told that on 18 February I would go to the Lord.”
“Oh Valeriu, are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“I doubt that God reveals the end.”
“And yet He did. I have been reassessed.”

I admitted to keeping a certain doubt in my heart—truthfully.

“Go away if you want, we’ll see. But tell me what you need.”
“I ask you, don’t tell anyone, to prepare this and that: shirt, underpants, handkerchief, stockings, all white, all clean. Get a candle, because we have no light at night.”
“Yes,” I said, “that is the hardest task.”
“Make sure you are here by my side when I die; on 18 February, you must be with me.”

We were the only two to speak with him.

“When he opens, come straight to me.”

He had a silver cross tied with thread.

“Place it in my mouth on the right side, so that when I die and am buried, you will find me and know the place, how to identify me.”
“I promise I will do this.”
“I expect you, when you realize it, to show it to me.”

I assured him I would.

The 18th approached. I went to see Ianolide, who shared the room with me, near a cold terracotta stove. I was diagonally across from him.

“Hey, Ianolide, go downstairs, into the valley. Valea told me to be with him today. I won’t leave; I want to see if he remembers or if it was just an illusion. Don’t speak to anyone and tell me immediately. I’ll stay until you come.”

The door opened, and Ianolide went downstairs. Not four minutes later, he returned, panting:

“Come on, Valea is waiting for you; he’s angry you didn’t come.”
“Why should he be angry?”
“Because you didn’t come, so I ran to him.”
“Go away, my friend, I’m here.”
“Have you forgotten?”
“I forgot, I lied, I couldn’t tell him myself. Actually, I did—I wanted to check.”
“Have you prepared everything?”
“Look, I’ve got everything ready, all around me. Whatever came, I was ready to handle it.”

At 10 o’clock, the doctor arrived, accompanied by two colleagues, Floricel and Ghițulescu, and a militiaman, a sergeant major, a sanitary officer—she was not allowed to come alone.

She stopped in front of Valeriu with a book in hand:

“What shall I prescribe, Mr. Gafencu?”

Valeriu sat in his chair, as he always did, unable to sleep because his heart wouldn’t allow it. When he lay down, he could not breathe, so he slept sitting. His blue eyes were remarkable—clear, penetrating, as if they could see everything. A tear shimmered in them.

“Doctor, thank you from the bottom of my heart for caring for us. Thank you for acting like a mother to the children, making every effort. Now I am on my way out.”
“Where are you going?” asked the policeman.
“I am going to the place you all will come one day.”
“Doctor, thank you for your superhuman effort to treat us amidst so much pressure. God bless you too.”
“Mr. Valeriu, don’t speak like that.”
“Doctor, I have another request.”
“Go ahead.”
“If possible, send me a lantern, so that when I leave, my family will have a light beside me tonight.”
“Yes, I will do that.”
“Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart.”
“What are you thanking me for? You can’t go out whenever you want.”
“Sergeant Major, I’m leaving—you’ll leave one day too.”
“Forget your stories. What do you know?”
“And thank you, comrade doctors, for all you’ve done for us. Pray to God that we all meet in the same place.”

The delegation left, and the doctor looked back at us one last time. She was visibly impressed. She did not send the lantern, as it could not reach us so quickly.

By 10:30, the doctor’s hands were getting cold. Ianolide was at his head, I at his side. I brought him food, attended to the other patients, and stayed vigilant. Valeriu spoke little, rested often, yet remained fully present. He continued evolving until his eyes stayed open and his last breath came: