Fatima: The Final Secret. Juan Moisés De La Serna

happened to you?”

      “No,” she replied, approaching him to give him a kiss.

      “So, why is Manu telling you to calm down?” he asked again.

      She lowered her head and said:

      “Go on, tell him! The sooner this is cleared up, the better.”

      “Well, what’s all this about? Let’s here it Manu, tell me what’s going on,” my father asked impatiently.

      I told him everything that had happened. Then, going out into the hall, he called Tono. From his room with the door closed, he asked:

      “Is Manu there? Tell him to leave, I don’t want to talk to him.”

      With an authoritative voice, my father said:

      “Tono, come out here immediately. I want you to clarify one thing for me right now, and enough with this seclusion and childish nonsense.”

      He came grumbling down the hall toward Dad and said:

      “What do you want, Dad?”

      He looked up, and told him what they’d said:

      “I want you to explain one thing for me. Who told those children about your brother?”

      “Me!” he answered quietly, “but I didn’t know it was bad.”

      “Son, it’s not bad, it’s just a different way of thinking, everyone is allowed to think what they want, do you tell us everything you think?” he asked looking at him very seriously.

      “No!” he said, trying not to look my father in the eye, “but the other kids told me…”

      “Tono, the other kids can tell you what they want. Do you think Manu is bad?”

      “No, at least he never hits me,” my brother replied.

      “So are you not going to tell Manu that he has to change?” my mother then asked my father.

      “Honey!” he said, “why don’t we eat and leave this for another time? I’m home and I’m quite tired, but I do want you to know Tono, that we love you all and that nothing’s going to happen to you because your brother thinks that way.”

      He approached me more calmly and said:

      “Alright, if Dad says that nothing will happen to me, then I’ll talk to you again,” and then he ran off.

      That incident was over, but it seemed that a pending conversation with my father would be on the cards.

      <<<<< >>>>>

      “Manu,” he said one afternoon, “I want to have a chat with you today,” and we went for a walk to my grandparents’ house.

      I was not clear on why he wanted me to go there, then it all became clear.

      When he saw us come in through the door of his house, my grandfather said:

      “Nice! I have company.”

      “How so?” I asked him immediately when I went over to give him a kiss.

      “Well, because your grandmother went to visit a friend who’s sick and I didn’t want to go, so I stayed here reading.”

      “Grandpa, don’t you already know all your books by heart yet?” I asked.

      “Don’t you believe that Manu, I can always pick one up and discover something new,” he told me very seriously.

      “So to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asked my father, who was coming into the room just then. I had arrived before him, because I had run down the hallway.

      “Well, I think it’s time for you to talk to your grandson,” he replied to his father.

      I was very surprised to hear that, so I asked:

      “About what?”

      “First, I’m going to make you a coffee,” my grandfather said. I’m sure it’ll do you some good, the afternoon is a little chilly.

      Then, the three of us sat there like three friends, it was barely noticeable that there was an age difference between us all, the three of us had always gotten along very well.

      Grandpa started telling me that he was also like me:

      “Oh good,” he said, “rather, it’s you who is like me, because I was born first and you were born after me.”

      Well, he told me that he had also been an atheist, I was very surprised.

      “But Gramps, I’ve seen you go to church on Sundays with Grandma,” I said without being able to restrain myself, even though I knew that he did not like to be interrupted. He always told us, “It’s bad manners to interrupt someone when they’re talking.”

      He told me very seriously:

      “Listen, if you’ll keep quiet and not interrupt me, you already know that I don’t like that, I’ll tell you about it, otherwise the one who’ll keep quiet will be me.”

      “Sorry!” I offered, “I won’t interrupt you anymore,” so I listened to him for the entire time he was speaking, quiet and attentive to everything he told me.

      He told me that, like many of his friends, he’d been an atheist in his youth, that he did not see eye to eye with the priests nor did he believe in what they were saying and that he was always fighting with those he knew in defense of his ideas, but something happened in his life that made him change.

      I really wanted to interrupt him to ask him what it was, but I held back and sat there by his side listening.

      “I met an angel,” he said suddenly.

      I must have opened my eyes wide.

      “Careful, they’re going to come out of their sockets,” he said with a smile. “Well, as I was saying, almost an angel, your grandmother.”

      I took a deep breath.

      “Yes, you don’t believe it, I know what you’re thinking, but she was straightening out my life, and making me see how wrong I was. She never gave me big sermons, or forced me into anything, she just set me an example, gave me understanding and affection, and that gradually made me reflect and see that my position was incorrect, that I had the wrong ideas and I changed them as things were becoming clearer in my mind.”

      He paused in thought for a moment, and then continued.

      “She changed me! It was like I was a sock and she had turned me inside out. I’m not saying I became sanctimonious or anything. No, that’s not me, but she made a new man out of me. I’ll never be able to thank her enough for that.”

      “Do you love me Manu?” he asked me suddenly.

      I was unsure of whether or not to answer him or if he would scold me for interrupting.

      “Answer the question son!” said Dad, who was sitting there quietly beside me.

      “Of course Grandpa! I don’t imagine you doubt that,” I told him softly so he wouldn’t get annoyed.

      “Well, God loves you like that,” he said, looking me straight in the eye.

      “Whaaat? If God doesn’t know me, how is he going to love me?” I said bewildered.

      “How can that be? How do you know that?” my grandfather asked me.

      “I don’t know, that’s what I’ve asked myself many times, if God really exists.”

      “Of course He does son, and He’s like a patient Father who’s there looking after His children, even if they don’t realize it.”

      He was telling me in a way that, I don’t know… that was so sweet. I had never heard my grandfather speak that way before.

      “But