My letter to a brilliant Human Being.

“Death smiles at us all, all a man can do is smile back.”
― Marcus Aurelius, Meditations

Today my Dad said, ‘I almost stopped breathing many times this week. Tomorrow I want to call everyone and say my goodbyes.’

Young man, remember the last time we said goodbye to each other? I was boarding that plane with Amma and Sis to leave Sri Lanka. I thought I would never see you again. Recently, you told me of how I cried, ‘Appa! Appa!’ back then and didn’t want you to leave my sight. I can’t remember when you finally arrived in London a few months later to join us, but I can imagine my elation.

You and Me, on a Welsh beach. 1994.

You are the most brilliant human being I have in my life. You just seem to know everything. You make me laugh so so much, and, somehow you always seem to realise when I’m down. Then you post something on my facebook wall to make me smile again haha.

I know how much you’ve suffered the last few years. I still remember when you first got the ‘possible diagnosis’ of MND. I, stupidly, pretended as if it did not affect me. But that sunny Summer afternoon in 2008, I cried and cried and cried at the gym. It seems ridiculous that although we are aware of death, I never thought I would lose you so soon. We weren’t close back then so I didn’t tell you this – but you knew how much it affected us all (Mum told me that you didn’t want me to come with you to your first hospital appointment because it would upset me).

It’s odd because when you thought you were the ‘boss of the Family’, I didn’t really have much respect for your typical Asian Dad mentality – and I imagine you had certain expectations of a daughter which I definitely didn’t uphold.

But when you were diagnosed, everything changed. And we all changed as Human Beings, for the better. We became a real Family. Just like in the movies. This disease has taken away your physical strength, but it has humbled you to the core. In the face of a terminal illness, You found your spirit and imagination. You’ve become my role model in Life.

I admire and honour you so much Appa. You are SO mentally strong, which we’ve both realised stands for much more than any amount of physical strength. Your consistent humour throughout all the changes your body has gone through – from losing the ability to walk to losing your speech – is such a powerful testament to your character. Your character. I don’t want your character to leave my Life. There’s no-one else like You here and I know there will never be again once your physical presence in this World has gone. I know your greatest fear is that you will be forgotten – but you should know that I, and many others whose lives you have touched, will never let that happen.

You saw so much horror back home and risked everything to give us a better life in this country by putting us on that plane. I know that you did not think you would be around to see your cousin or your niece get married, to turn 60 or even to see your youngest child graduate. But you made it this far, and with that huge smile in your eyes. I wish you could stay here to witness the doors you opened for us by bringing us to London. To see me get married (yes one day it MAY happen – God help my husband lol). To see your *ahem* adopted grandchildren. To carry them and tell them the jaw dropping stories of your past yourself. To watch us turn 30, and then 40 – as your parents have seen you do. Those are my wishes – but I fear that my wishes are selfish and will just prolong your suffering. I know that you are scared to leave us three alone but I will look after Mum and Sis. And God has always looked after me, so don’t you be worrying about that. You have taught me more in these last few years about what makes a noble human being. And for what you have done for us I am eternally grateful. I know you love us. And I sadly will never have the guts to say this to you in person (you know how I feel about people seeing me cry) but I love you too Appa.

Do you remember this photo? Of course you do, your memory is better than anyone I know. I will always cherish the memories of our last Family holiday together, and all the ones you took us on as soon as we got our passports haha.

This is you Young Man – waiting for me to sit with you and watch the Sunset at Kanyakumari, India. Sunday 1st August 2010, my 21st birthday.

Over the last few years, I’ve already missed the many things we used to do when you were well; cycling in the park with you every day of the Summer holidays or you driving us through the countryside to get horse manure for your garden. But when you leave, there is so much more that I will miss… watching animal documentaries with you, your stories of back home, you saying ‘make me look beautiful’ after we brush your teeth, you telling me the best gardening techniques and especially waking up to your 2am facebook posts on my wall (when you should really be asleep).

You told me once that you know Life was meant to turn out this way for you. That God put you in this position for a reason – to bring you closer to Him. So I definitely can’t keep asking Him to let you stay. But, around 20 years on from the last time I had to say goodbye to you at Colombo airport, I don’t know how to say goodbye to You again. I don’t want you to go – but when you feel like you need to, I guess this is me saying that it’s okay for you to finally relax Young Man. I will wait for the day to come when we can watch that Sunset together again. With All My Love. X