I have always felt that writing appreciations about people who have passed on is a pointless exercise. The subject cannot read your praises. But we still write appreciations – for the bereaved, for family and friends, and for ourselves.
We write to share grief, to celebrate a life, and to remind ourselves of the impact the departed have had on our lives. Self-indulgent though appreciations may be, they have a cathartic value.
But appreciations are also written because they will not be held back. They write themselves. This is especially true of those unforgettable individuals who have left an indelible mark on our lives.
I write this appreciation because I will never forget Aunty June. Her son Dirk and daughter Simone were childhood friends of mine. Her husband, Uncle Michael, is one of the finest persons I have had the privilege of knowing. Simone married my oldest and most trusted friend, someone I have known since kindergarten, at S. Thomas’ College, further reinforcing the bonds between her family and myself.
Aunty June was the kind of person who was always there for you. That sounds like a cliché. But she was much more than that. She was the kind of person who stood steadfastly by you when your whole world was collapsing around you.
She expressed herself plainly, and she spoke truths you were afraid to hear. She was a devoted wife and mother, and she rejoiced in her grandchildren in the way a woman who has lived a good and full life can. She was proud of her whole brood, and watched over them all. Motherhood was the essence of her being.
No person whose life was touched by Aunty June and her remarkable personality can be indifferent to her passing. Her death has impoverished us – her beloved family, her friends and all those lost souls she took in, to nurture and to set right on life’s journey.
Aunty June lived a good life, and the person she married is a greatly respected gentleman, someone who cared for her and loved her to the end. They shared a lifetime of happiness, and raised children who have grown up to be people of great heart, integrity and high ideals, full of grit and determination. Like their parents, they are simple but rare human beings.
The hallmark of the Tissera family is that they are staunch and loyal friends. Something that struck me at Aunty June’s funeral was that there was not a politician present – only friends, relatives and decent people whose lives have been touched by the Tisseras in one way or the other, always for the good.
I myself have been touched by their kindness and humanity, especially at a time when my world seemed to have fallen to pieces around me, and few wished to acknowledge they knew me. Aunty June and the Tissera family stood by me stoically. Thanks to them, I did not want for comfort or friendship. I will forever be grateful for their warmth and loyalty.
Aunty June often came to see her son play for St. Thomas’. The joke (exaggerated) was that everyone present on the field, and even outside, knew the moment her son Dirk got out, because they would hear her start her car, rev up the engine for all to hear, and roar away. That was how closely she was involved in her son’s career.
Uncle Michael captained the national cricket team. But at no time did either Uncle Michael or Aunty June plan careers for their children. All they wanted was that their children be decent human beings and responsible citizens, and this in a country, and at a time, when parents will leave no stone unturned to further their children’s interests.
That was not how the Tisseras operated. When Aunty June revved up the engine of her car, it took her away from a bad moment, but it also possibly helped Dirk get on a little further in his career.
Aunty June left her mark on our lives in many ways. She honed our values and she taught us to take life’s ups and downs in a sensible way. Through example, she taught us duty, love, responsibility and loyalty – lessons I learned as a boy and that have served me well as a man in times of adversity.
We will miss Aunty June, her unique personality and her bubbly personality. Extraordinary people rob us of words to describe them when they go. We are poorer, all of us, and especially Uncle Michael, Simone, Dirk, Varuna and Sueli, for her loss.
I wish them strength and the protection of the Good Lord.
Krishantha Prasad Cooray |
E-mail
