The last meeting with Father Dimitrie Bejan
Irina, my beautiful two-year-old from Bărăgan and goddaughter of Fr. Dimitrie Bejan, told me that Fr. Dimitrie would like to see me once more before the big farewell. So, in the summer of 1994, when I came to Romania for a short time, I decided to go to Hârlău, where Fr. Bejan lived for the last part of his life.
Together with Ciprian, at the wheel of the car, I drove through Codrii Pașcanilor, a place that became part of history after the battles between the Romanians and the Russians during the Second World War. Ionel also showed us his birthplace, Stroiești, near Cotnari.
Arriving in Hârlău and meeting Father Mitiță, as his friends called him, was impressive.
– Welcome, American!
His tears met mine and our words were drowned by the longing of so many years of not seeing each other…
Although time had taken its toll on him, Father was the same man I knew, perhaps a little greyer, perhaps even more gentle, but with the same holy aura, whose radiance had not faded in the dungeons he had passed through, nor in the freedom he could barely have a taste of…
After long discussions, perfumed by some Cotnari wine, when my friends went out for a cigarette, my father took me by the hands and said to me:
– Forgive me, Grigore! I’ve got a bit more and I’m passing over.
– Forgive me too, Father, I whispered, and something sad nestled in my heart, suspecting that this was the last time we would see each other…
As we were leaving, the father, small in stature, climbed with his last strength onto the lower plank supporting the fence planks and said to me:
– Gregory, I’m going ahead of you, but I won’t go in there, in front of St Peter’s gate, until you come too… Do you hear, Gregory? I’m waiting for you there, in front of the gate, and I won’t go in without you!
And with his face turned towards the azure sky, the priest seemed to be imprinting what he had said on the firmament. He had tears in his eyes and as he looked up at the sky, I saw him resting for a few moments in a green place, truly heavenly, waiting for someone so dear to him…
I collected the last memory of the Father, a book he wrote with his soul and with the pain of so many memories that once united us forever:
“To Grigore Caraza – a good and tested friend, now American, we were once together in Zarca, etc., a good fighter for Romania – for whom I have great respect for his suffering.
Clean he went to prison – enlightened he came out – then he went to the USA to be happy. And he lived a happy life here in our country.
With best thoughts,
D. Bejan priest; 10 September 1994; Hârlău”.
I was leaving Father’s house and his soft, warm voice was still caressing my ears with whispers of call and vows:
– Do you hear, Grigore? I’m waiting for you at the gate, and I won’t go in without you!
***
I corresponded with Father Bejan for a year while he was still alive, and I remember my last letter:
Father Mitiță
It’s autumn in New York. I pick up a leaf from the pavement in a park and in it I see the autumn of my village, of the Nethian Plain, I see the autumn of my homeland, I see the autumn of Rebreanu’s The Hanged Man’s Forest; I can see Svoboda, Klapka, Apostle Bologa…
It’s a sad autumn on the North American continent…”
***
When he received it and it was read to him by Cornelia, his granddaughter, Father cried bitterly for a long time, then turned to the wall…
Only a few days later, Father said goodbye to this world and entered the other world…
(Grigore Caraza, Aiud însângerat, edited by Adrian Alui Gheorghe, 5th edition, Tipo Moldova Publishing House, Iași, 2013, pp. 276-278)