Dear Tissa,
July 26, 2008 was your second death anniversary.
We still cannot believe you have left this world for ever. We miss you, we remember you, we think about you, and we love you every moment of our lives.
I can proudly say that I had the best husband a wife can ever have. You shared and helped me in every single thing in our day-to-day life. As a botany teacher, I am fond of plants and enjoy gardening. You always supported and admired that. Every Sunday you were in the garden with the plants, even when I was busy. Whenever I wanted to hang ferns and other ornamental plants, you were ready with the equipment. That last Sunday when you were gardening, I came to you and said something, and when I turned away to the kitchen you asked: “Where are you running? Wait a little”. You liked my presence in the garden with you. Those memories are sweet and unforgettable.
The first day you visited my home in Panadura, after returning from abroad, you gave me three valuable books about indoor plants, vegetables and gardening. You had written in the books the words: “To mark the first visit to Champi’s home”, and autographed the book on indoor plants.
You wanted sons, and we were blessed with two sons, Supun and Nipun. Supun has your facial features, voice, smile and friendly manner. Our younger son Nipun has your body shape, walk, the way you stand, your handwriting, and more. Sometimes they look just like you.
At your funeral, I said to Professor Ranjith, “Your friend has gone for ever.” He replied, “Tissa has given the world two sons and gone.” That moment, I realised the value of our precious sons.
We both had many common interests, music and films being just a few. I remember how, just three months before your demise, you enjoyed my staff get-together at Chrishanthi’s place. You mixed well with all my friends and their spouses.
You had a good collection of the old favourites of each and every singer – Sinhala as well as Hindi. Every day, after dinner, you liked to listen to those songs.
That last day, we went as usual with our younger son by car. Our older son was at home. When I was getting out of the car, I said: “Give a call to our older son, who is at home, and today also come early”, which were my usual last words to you each day. So you had the conversation with our older son over the phone. No one realised those were the last moments of our happy life together.
Now life is not the same, and life is tough. Now I understand that life does not belong to us. Some things we wish for we never get.
Your untimely departure is felt by each and everyone you associated with. Your office friends remember you – the help, support, guidance and friendship you gave them, and your excellent jokes.
When people speak of your good qualities, I feel you are with us. I like to talk about those memories. I realise your life is a good example to all of us, the way you lived as a human being. No one will forget your memory, Tissa.
You will live in our hearts for ever.
By Champika Ramani Dias |
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