Despite the archbishop’s return to the Netherlands for additional care in 2001, and my regular trips with his Dutch doctor every four to six weeks to check on his condition in Cyprus, his health declines. The archbishop’s physical condition worsens drastically when he has a fall in 2002. Once he is admitted into the hospital in Nicosia for injuries associated with the fall, the doctors become aware of the medications he is taking, and our secret is revealed.
In 2002 I appeal to the Holy Synod to retire the archbishop, which they eventually do. I continue to visit him through the years in Cyprus and even during his darkest moments, when he does not respond to others, he connects with me, to the delight of his nurses.
The Munich case from 2000 to 2006 stalls. A new attorney general removes Stella from the case and begins a civil suit against Dikmen.
In 2007, the Dutch Parliament changes their legislation opening the door for Cyprus to request the return of the four icons from Antiphonitis, government to government. I never get to share the news with my beloved archbishop, as his condition worsens once again. In December in The Hague the streets are filled with the sounds of Christmas as traditional music plays from Dutch mobiles. I think about the archbishop as I pick up a music box, in the Bijkenkorf department store, looking forward to visiting him in Cyprus, when the phone rings.
It’s Bishop Vasilios. He pauses for a moment and I think, No, God, no.
“Grandad just left us, and you are the first to know.”
I knew this day would come, and yet I could not prepare for it. I find a seat in the store and break down in tears as the reality of what I lost is made real. Michael and I attend the funeral in Cyprus. I pay my respects to the great man who is wearing the handwoven gown with golden threads that I had specially made for him. He looks so peaceful as he lay in the Saint John Chapel next to his palace. I remember the times we shared and what we accomplished together. He was my spiritual father and I loved him. And so it is especially difficult for me to watch his opponents arriving in their fancy cars, sitting in the first row, talking on their cell phones, wearing their fancy watches. There is no respect even among the holy men. As I look around I notice that greed has become what some people worship instead of God. A desire for money and power appears to take precedence over all else. I realize that Dealers of God are everywhere, not just in the international trade of art houses.
After his funeral, I close that chapter on my life as destiny calls me into service once again.