A note on a father
It was one of those phone calls that one would always remember, the shock it generates pervades all through a lifetime. On Monday 17 August 2009, I received a phone call from my mother, a teacher at Gateway International School, Kandy. In a deeply tormented but extremely strong, poised tone, and keeping her calm to the fullest, she said to me that at around 6.30 pm Sri Lankan time that day, my father, aged sixty-nine, passed away in a hospital in Kandy. She was there until the last minute, and saw him release his last breath, after thirty-three years of marriage. A senior manager at the Bank of Ceylon, my father retired from BoC almost ten years ago. He was one of the kindest and most good-hearted individuals I have ever met, and will ever meet. Hailing from a rural household in the mountains of central Sri Lanka, he was a man who made his way to the island’s national…
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