“I had an incident involving a very good young woman who came to me and confessed what had happened to her. I told her to give her daughter a particular name.
Why?
Because this woman had had an abortion when she was a university student in France.
Later, she came to Cyprus and found a job. She met another man in Cyprus and became pregnant, even though she was not married. The man told her, ‘I am not going to marry you. I never promised you marriage.’
She said that she was at home, sitting and crying. She was reading something when she suddenly saw a little girl, about twelve or thirteen years old. The girl was wearing beautiful pink clothes.
‘The color is significant,’ he said. ‘I mention it for a reason.’
The little girl was walking back and forth in front of her.
The woman asked her:
‘How did you get into the house? Who are you?’
The girl replied:
‘Mom, don’t you remember me?’
‘Mom?’ the woman said.
‘Yes. You are my mother.’
‘But why?’ the woman asked. ‘Do I have a daughter?’
‘Yes, you have a daughter. Have you forgotten that you were in France, studying there, and that you killed me, Mom?’
The woman replied:
‘But, my child, you are not dead. You are alive.’
The girl answered:
‘I am in Heaven. This is how I am now.’
‘Do you hear me?’
And then the little girl said:
‘And I don’t want you to do the same thing to my brother.’
As she said this, she pointed toward the woman’s belly.
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