Page 75 - Revelation

Svetlana de Rohan-Levashova. Revelation

writer said: "even a small mind can shine, if it is properly rubbed against books". So,
obviously, this professor had rubbed his mind...

But this story is not about him, but about someone truly pure and lucid and
therefore absolutely worthwhile telling about.
One early autumn morning I walked in the nearby forest. On gathering a bouquet
of the last autumn flowers, I, as usual, came to the cemetery to lay them on my
grandad’s grave.

Our cemetery was very beautiful (if, certainly, one may use this word to describe
this sad place). It was (and still is) right in the forest in a surprisingly light glade
surrounded by mighty old trees and looked like a quiet green harbour where
everybody could find rest and peace, if fate for one or another reason suddenly broke
his fragile thread of life. We called this cemetery "new", because it had just been
opened and my grand-dad was only the third person to be buried there. Therefore it
did not look like a real cemetery...
I entered the gate and greeted a shortish, thin, old lady who sat there alone and
was submerged in the train of her thoughts.
The day was pleasant, sunny and warm, although autumn had acceded to the
throne and ruled very confidently. The light breeze rustled in the remaining leaves,
spreading around the sweet smell of honey, mushrooms and earth warmed by the last
sun rays... Kind, deep and "golden" silence reigned in this peaceful place of Eternal
Rest, just like it should.

As usual, I sat down on a small bench near grandad’s tomb and began to tell him
the latest news. I knew that it was foolish and that he could not hear me, even if I
wished it very much (because his spirit lived in me from the day of his death), but I
lacked his presence so strongly and constantly, that I had allowed myself this tiny,
inoffensive illusion in order to return that wonderful connection which I had only with
him alone, if only for a short moment.
So, I quietly and peacefully "spoke" to my grandad and did not notice when the
miniature old lady came and sat down next to me on a small stump. I do not know
how long she sat with me like this, but when I came back into "normal reality", I saw
blue radiant eyes, not at all senile, which tenderly looked at me, as if asking whether
I needed any help.

– Oh, I am sorry. I did not notice when you came! – I said being strongly
embarrased.
Usually it was difficult to approach me unnoticed. An internal sense of self-
defence always snapped into action, but this nice old lady emmited such warm and
boundless good which most likely inhibited all my "protective reflexes".
– Well, here I am, speaking with my grandad. – I said abashedly.

– Don’t be ashamed, dear, – the old lady shook her head, – you have a soul-
grantor. It is a rare and enormous happiness. Don’t be ashamed.
I looked at the frail and very unusual old lady with total attention having
absolutely no idea what she was talking about, but for some reason feeling absolute
and complete trust toward her. She sat closer, tenderly hugged me with her aged, dry,

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