ISSN: 1391 - 0531
Sunday September 2, 2007
Vol. 42 - No 14

My Seeya was a special person

E.P. Paul Perera

On August 15, we said “goodbye” to a great man who was my Seeya. He belonged to a generation that measured men by their honesty and their courage. My Seeya was a special person who quietly gave extraordinary time and ideas to politics. He brought to politics his distinctive insight so that politics could have a broader appeal, that it was not just about elections, but about the larger forces that shape our whole society.

He thought politics should be an integral part of our popular culture and that popular culture should be an integral part of politics. He worked tirelessly to uplift the poor; that they will have a better tomorrow. He fought many battles on behalf of the poor. He has told me many stories of how he worked for the common man.

He was the Seeya who loved us all, but who especially cherished Archchie, his five children and nine grandchildren, celebrated our successes, looked forward to our achievements and took strength and joy from our lifelong mutual admiration society. He took great pride and joy that all his grandchildren were climbing different ladders to achieve their dreams. He actively encouraged us to work hard to realise our dreams. He told countless stories of the hardships he endured as a young man. These stories were a great source of encouragement and inspiration to us all.

All of us will miss you Seeya.

God bless you Seeya, I, your fifth grandchild, will always miss the chats we had sitting in your verandah and will always love you and treasure your great wisdom. I was reminded of the following poem which consoles me in this hour of grief.

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there.
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there.
I did not die.

By Chiara Perera

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Copyright 2007 Wijeya Newspapers Ltd.Colombo. Sri Lanka.