One small segment in time and a window opens.
A blind to another world opens up.
You peep in, it closes.
What did you see?
I thought he asked for Baggott St Hospital and I was talking away at the time.
As they say, 19 to the dozen.
A bloke that I would figure was an introvert, coming out of his shell slowly.
A nice friendly enough guy.
When we came up via Barrow St my brain hit a blank spot.
"did you say Baggott St."
"No Hollies St Hospital."(maternity hospital)
It was much of a muchness so I said it will be €5 stopping the meter as I had taken him on to the canal 200 m out of his way.
A happy event? I said.
"I wish it was.
No I am going to therapy in a place near there.
You see as a child I was abused by a Monsignor in the church.
He was higher up than a bishop in the church.
I had a lot of anger as a youth I coped with that through Kirate, I am a black belt 3rd Dan.
My aggression became channeled into that, but I never knew why I was so angry.
One day I started to get flashbacks.
Right out of the blue.
I took therapy and was then able to recall what was at the root of my problems.
I had been abused as a child.
Then later on,when I was well enough ot approach the clerical abuse redress board.
I went there.
First thing that was said to me was
"I suppose you want compensation like the others?"
How could they give me my life back to live again?
No I just want him named and shamed,I want to see him in the dock, explaining to a judge why he did the things he did the things to me a child of 11 years old.
I want the chance to tell him and the world how he ruined my life.
Then I might get my own life back again."
It was a lot to drop in my lap just like that for sure.
But that was it, another world and a truth that had been hidden for years behind the doors of the Catholic church,
The present Pope repressed many of the reports of child abuse, now he is worried about paying compensation, if he believes in what he preaches then the day of judgment may be more of a problem in the end.
How could you even begin to compensate for a childhood, when clerics who abused were shipped from one innocent parish to another to sin again and again? and then even protected?
The only comfort I could offer him was that some day the in future he must draw a line under all this, when it is over.
Start to live his life from then on, don't let it destroy him too.
We shook hands and with parted company, each leaving with more than we brought to the table.
Just a moment in a taxi drivers life
So poignant that this just leaves me speechless.
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