Papa’s Eulogy

Before I start my eulogy, I want to thank everyone for all your kindness to me at this sad time. I am sad. You’ve all come alongside me to grieve and have helped me with so many things. Thank you for this.

Some time in the wee hours of 23^rd August, my father, Stephen Rajamoney, breathed his last breath. He was 90 years, 2 months, and 5 days old when he left his earthly home for his heavenly destination. My father was ready to meet his maker – he trusted in the salvation provided to him by Jesus Christ.

So many family and friends have been communicating with me since Papa died. I’m sure everyone’s saying a lot of nice things to me. To be honest, a lot of it sounds like a loud buzz. My mind is a little in shock, and I’m exhausted. Still, there are some wonderful things that I’m hearing about Papa. Some things are being said over and over that I’m able to pick them out.

Many people keep telling me how patient he was. My uncle talked about how Papa probably only got impatient when Nadal or Djokovic served because of how long they took to serve – unlike Federer. I must add that Papa would also get rather impatient with Liverpool (the football team we support), when they took too long over corners, or if time wasting was a tactic employed. Papa, I’m reminded, is exceedingly hospitable. Family and friends have been sharing with me that they’ve enjoyed conversations with him and have been made to feel very welcome in our home. They could have open conversations – no need to temper anything. From an insider perspective, I have to say that Papa loved the company we had. When I was little, my Mum or even my granny would give him long shopping lists of things they needed for the cook-up that was about to happen. He would go and painstakingly get the stuff needed. He wasn’t someone who did things in the kitchen, but this was how he contributed. He got all the stuff. As he got older, this task was slowly relinquished over to me. At various times, he would say to me that he wasn’t able to help but he would ask me countless questions about what I was planning to serve, if I had it all under control, etc. So yes – if you saw him smiling widely at you when you set foot into our home, you were right to perceive that he was welcoming you. He was indeed very happy to see you.

I keep hearing people say that Papa supported them in many ways. Some say they learnt through his sharing of experiences. This was so heartwarming to hear. He did have much experience. He lived through a World War and the Japanese Occupation of Malaya. His father, my grandfather, took the family out of Malaya to India for safety during the Japanese Occupation. Papa saw death very young. He lost a sister who was only 17 during the Japanese Occupation. I think it gave him a very different perspective on death. He crossed over into Malaysia on the final day before Malaysia and Singapore separated. PHEW! He worked as a teacher and met a whole load of different people. If you look back to the time when he was even younger, I have it on good authority that he was incredibly naughty. Apparently, he could run extremely fast, and he would knock people off their feet. His speed was a great asset because it was hard to catch him after he’d done a mischievous deed! I should also add that if anyone of you here says I have mischief in me (and am looking at some of you here in the crowd), I want you to know now where it comes from. Sins of the father! There were diving stints in exceedingly deep wells – not something I’d recommend for the fainthearted. Papa’s life was full of ups and downs. From what people have been sharing with me, it sounds like he shared these with you.

Let me share with you my insights on Papa. The thing I most admired about my dad was his integrity. Papa and Mummy met at a wedding. He was tall and handsome. She was beautiful and elegant. They made a lovely pair. They got married in this very church and not too long after they were married, mum suffered a rheumatoid arthritis flare, which rendered her bedridden. Mummy told me many times that Papa would’ve been forgiven if he had left their marriage at that time. He, however, stayed on. The impression that has made on me is unshakeable. There was integrity in the vows he took. This is something I have always admired Papa for – and it is something Mum always wanted me to remember.

Papa and I spoke completely different love languages. We have completely different personalities. He is engaging and chatty for sure – but it takes time for him to get there. I’m a raging extrovert. When Mum died, Papa sat beside me and said ‘I don’t know what to do now she’s gone. You both were always talking and laughing – I don’t know if I can keep up.’ It was a fair assessment. He was quiet a lot. It made it difficult, I guess, and as broken individuals, perhaps our conflict resolution wasn’t always godly. However, there has been so much to be grateful for. Papa and I had moments of deep sharing, and this has been helpful for me to see how we as sinners justified by grace, try, fail, or succeed, in different aspects of our relationship. Saying this, as different as we were, he also really got me. I think I’m going to really miss this. He got me. When Mum died, I broke. I quit the law and retreated into a cave. I interacted with very few people and was in general, a mess. I cannot tell you the number of people who told me off for quitting the law. You know what? Papa knew I made a fine lawyer. Not the best, perhaps – but pretty darn decent. Papa knew how much I’d loved going to court – after all, I’d regaled him and mum with tales of court. But he also knew that I was struggling. He knew I needed a change. He stood beside me as I made that change. When you spiral, you don’t necessarily chart things out. I guess for people looking on, the big question of ‘what are you doing?’ was unanswered. For Papa, he stood beside me. Never wavering. No busy yackety yak about what everyone else was doing to bounce back. He got me. He got me even when I didn’t get myself. He knew when I was ready for relationships. He knew when I wasn’t. He knew I needed to speak up for somethings. He knew I needed to fight for what I believed in. He had no issue with it. He got me. He never forced the idea of marriage on me – and he had on more than one occasion said ‘leave my daughter alone’. He got me.

In the last 3 years or so, Papa felt the need to prep me for his passing. He talked to me about it so much – he wanted me to make decisions for me – without considering him because he said he was only going to be here temporarily. This year, we spoke a lot about him turning 90. We celebrated his 90^th birthday – he was surrounded by family and he even said a few words, which was shocking because he’s not into speaking up front – anyone who knows him, would agree! Every time I talked about his cake, the food, or any other plan I was making for his party, he would somehow bring the conversation to his passing. He wanted me to be ready. I didn’t enjoy those conversations, but I admired his truthfulness about things. Behind it all, was a faith, that his Savior had him in His Hands. Papa knew Jesus. Papa was sure of where he was going. Even when we know this, it’s hard to have those difficult conversations. Papa had them with me. I am grateful.

I love my dad very much. Apart from God, he loved me the most. No doubts there. I look forward now to the day, when we meet in Christ, for this time, when we meet, we will both be speaking the same love language. I will miss you, Papa. I’m sorry for my failings and I thank God for the times I was a good daughter. I love you and am so grateful to God for you. I will miss you more than I can say.