The Words I Never Spoke:
The Words I Never Spoke:
A Eulogy for My Father, twenty-two years later
When my father passed away in Sri Lanka, I found myself unable to deliver a eulogy. Despite having spent a few years there as an adult, I was ill-equipped — both emotionally and culturally — to honour him properly. After living abroad for over twenty-five years, Sri Lankan customs had become unfamiliar to me. At the time, overwhelmed by grief and disconnected from my roots, I couldn’t find the words. Now, twenty-two years later, I’m finally ready to articulate what I wish I could have said on that solemn day.
Ladies and Gentlemen, esteemed religious leaders,
Today, I stand before you with a heart heavy with grief, yet filled with gratitude for every one of you who has come to bid farewell to my father. In this profoundly sad moment, I want to extend my deepest thanks to all those who assisted in the final rites, to the relatives and friends who surrounded us, and to every family member who reached out with calls and visits during this difficult time. Your presence has offered us immense comfort.
As I reflect on my father, I find it challenging to share specific anecdotes from my childhood. His influence transcends individual moments, shaping the very essence of who I am. At 47 years old, I realize that I had only seventeen years with him in total. However, the years of conscious memories and close interaction were fewer — from about age five until I left home at seventeen, giving me roughly twelve formative years under his roof. Yet, those years were rich with lessons and love that continue to guide me today.
For someone who has always viewed his father as a hero, mere stories cannot encapsulate the depth of his legacy. To reduce his life to a few anecdotes would be a disservice to his memory and a sign of weakness. My father instilled in me the strength and confidence to stand tall. If I am a resilient individual today, it is because of the unwavering support and guidance of Don Thomas Jayasinghe. He was the architect of my character, the director of my journey, and the critic who pushed me to excel. He was my greatest champion, never allowing me to succumb to defeat. When I found myself lost, it was his words — whether through letters or phone calls — that illuminated my path.
I am eternally grateful to all who have gathered to honour my father. Your kind words and shared stories have been a balm for our sorrow. My father’s impact reaches beyond our immediate family, touching lives across generations. While I was fortunate to share 17 years with him, the true depth of his influence is immeasurable. Those twelve years of close interaction shaped me in ways I am still discovering.
My father was a man of strength and conviction, a socialist who dreamed of a just society. He lived without regrets, embracing life fully until his last breath. Even in his final moments, as he passed away in my arms, there were no tears or sadness — only a profound acceptance of life’s journey. I cherish the last week I spent with him, filled with laughter and love, ensuring he felt the happiness he so richly deserved.
I want to extend my heartfelt thanks to my father’s friends, relatives from both sides of the family, his colleagues, and all those who were part of his life. Over four thousand visitors came to our home to share in our grief, each one a testament to the beautiful life he led. My father began his journey as a casual worker and rose to become a civil servant, and I am grateful to all those who shared in his joys and sorrows.
Though my brother and I lived far from him, he never expressed feelings of loneliness. His community, supported by my mother’s family, was always there for him. When he passed, I found myself unprepared, falling into a void of despair. Yet, it was the love and support of relatives and friends that lifted us, sharing their own stories of my father and helping us to grieve. They stepped in to honour his last rites, and for that, I will be forever thankful.
I will always remember how you put your lives on hold to support us. Please continue to help our mother until she finds her footing again. I especially want to thank my aunt, my other mother, and her family for their unwavering support during this time.
Jayasinghe, Jaye, Thomas Singho, Thomas, Punchi Ayya, Thaththa, Seeya, Bappa, Thomas Seeya — these were the names my father carried. Each one represents a facet of his life, a life dedicated to helping others through deeds, actions, and thoughts. I am grateful for all who played a role in his journey, though I know I may never be strong enough to thank everyone who touched his life.
As I conclude this tribute, I carry my father’s legacy with me, vowing to honour him by living a life of strength, compassion, and integrity — values he instilled in me. Thank you all for being here today to celebrate the remarkable life of my father.
Comments
Post a Comment