By Krishantha Prasad Cooray
“My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it”. — Clarence Budington Kelland
It’s been a year since a man of quiet greatness who shaped me into who I became and showed me the true meaning of duty left this world. Though I live overseas now, I am deeply grateful to God above for granting me the opportunity to be by his side and hold his hand as he passed. Thaththa was my true hero.
I have been acutely aware this past year that a part of me was missing. I know it was Thaththa, but that’s a reality I did not want to admit. I did not, or perhaps could not, face the truth of my loss in all its dimensions.
He was truly extraordinary, hardworking, loving, and humble. The way he faced criticism quietly and with grace was remarkable. When life tested him, he responded with calm strength. He thought clearly, without being swayed by empty words. He was always steady and sober in word and deed. He never sought credit for what he did and his humility is a lesson for us all.
Faith and discipline were his greatest strengths. For many years, he attended early morning mass almost every day. When I think of discipline, my father is the first face that comes to my mind. When I consider the responsibility I have towards my children, I think of him and remember that his love for his three sons was fierce and protective, and yet so very gentle. In moments when I need strength to face life’s challenges, I think of his quiet but extraordinary courage. When I reflect on friendship and loyalty, I think of the example he set. And when anger threatens to overwhelm me, I remember him and peace follows. Whenever I face difficult decisions, I pause and ask, “What would Thaththa say?”
He obviously offered advice and taught many things, but my father, Eric Cooray, as I mentioned, was a quiet individual. The greatest lessons were not spoken, they were acted out in real life situations. We saw. We learned. We are grateful. Beyond words.
He, in fact, crafted his ways into our hearts and minds. And there he lives, now and always. It is hardly a consolation for the absence of his physical presence is acutely felt and overwhelming. But until we meet again in the hereafter, my father, Eric Cooray, will be by my side in the form of the lessons he taught, effortless and, indeed without intending to teach.
Memories of him come to me in waves, sometimes bringing smiles, other times tears I cannot hold back.
Thaththa, thank you for every sacrifice, every teaching, every moment of love. I think of you all the time. I miss you, deeply and always.
