To My Aunty Linda
When beggars die, there are not comets seen;
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
- William Shakespeare in Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene II
Growing up, I heard many stories about her – she was my dad’s second eldest sister, the aunt who lived abroad, the aunt who traveled the world. The first time our paths crossed, the first time from what I can recall, was when Aunty Linda visited us in Dubai, probably sometime in 1998. Other than that, I didn’t see or talk to her often except for an occasional phone call or a birthday card.
That all changed in the summer of 2005. I was fourteen and headed for my first international Girl Scout camp in the U.K. Aunty Linda and Dad decided that once I finished my one week of camping, I would spend three more weeks in England with Aunty. That really was the starting point of my relationship with her.
For the duration of those three weeks, we did touristy things in London, stayed at Aunty Bee’s house in South Harrow, visited Aunty Linda’s friends in Wiltshire, pretended to be from the Jane Austen era in Bath, and discussed the importance of education while visiting Oxford University. We gasped at the exorbitant prices at Harrods, shopped at Oxfam charity shops, posed for picturesque English countryside photos, did a walking tour of Oxford University, stood in awe amidst the book stacks of the Bodleian Library, bought several secondhand books at a flea market, visited the Buckingham Palace, stood for hours to see the Changing of the Guard, took pictures with the wax statues of Tony Blair and George Bush at Madame Tussauds, picnicked in the sun, ate an obscene amount of sandwiches and chocolates and oranges, and got lost on the London Underground.
More importantly however, I can recall the conversations we had, and the laughs that we shared. We talked so much during those three weeks – we talked while walking, we talked while waiting in line, we talked late into the night. After all, we did have a lot of catching up to do. She was the first and still the only family member, outside of my parents, with whom I shared my hopes and my dreams, my ambitions and my desires. On her part, she sat and listened to me, she agreed and disagreed with me, she advised and encouraged me, and she too shared her past experiences and memories and her visions for the future. One of my fondest memories while in London was when we sat on the steps of Trafalgar Square watching the setting sun, we sat in silence taking a break from all the talking, we sat side by side, Aunty Linda and I. When we bid goodbye to each other at Heathrow Airport, I knew that while my trip to England was over, my relationship with my aunt had just begun.
Over the years since that trip, we exchanged emails. She lived in Hong Kong, I lived in Dubai, and sometimes we would run into each other in Sri Lanka. Even if I didn’t see her for a period of time, when I finally met her, I was able to talk to her with such ease, we just picked up from where we had left off. She was the kind of person whom people could confide in, ever ready to share in someone’s joy or sorrow or both.
A main point of discussion with her was my education. Of all the things we talked about, she kept coming back to this topic. I can still hear her voice in my head – “Malki, you need to get a good education!” – she believed in me enough to make me want to reach for the stars. In April 2010, when I found out I got accepted to Georgetown University, she was the second person I called, the first was my dad. When she said that she was so happy for me, I knew she meant it; she had such a genuine happiness. I’m glad she saw me get a start on my higher education. I just thought that she would get to see me graduate in May 2014.
As I write down these words, I still cannot fully comprehend that my Aunty Linda is gone. Are we not going to plan another trip together? Are we not going to exchange emails anymore? Is she not going to ask me what courses I’m taking at Georgetown next semester? Is she not going to call my dad and check up on his health? A tumult of emotions and a multitude of questions cascade me as I begin to grapple with this sudden loss.
I was in shock when I heard about the accident, I was in denial when I heard she was in the ICU, I felt numb when I heard she passed away – I will never forget that last weekend of January 2012. Since then I’ve shed many a tear; tears of confusion at the suddenness of the loss, tears of sadness for myself and the world because we lost a wonderful individual, tears of joy because I had the privilege of knowing a person with one of the biggest and kindest hearts.
Yes, my Aunty Linda was many things to many people. She is God’s own, a guardian angel sent down to us, a beacon of light that made the world a brighter place, a rare flower that made life more beautiful, a friend to the brokenhearted, an inspiration to many.
You are now home with God resting in peace.
Thank you for teaching me the value of family, for encouraging me to reach for the stars, for sharing my joys and my sorrows, for our many travels together, for showing me the importance of giving more than receiving.
I am blessed beyond imagination to have been able to call you “my Aunty Linda”. My life is infinitely better for having met you. I know that you are watching over me, protecting me and guiding me down life’s path.
I will think of you on the day I graduate, I know that you will be sitting in that audience cheering me on.
I will think of you when I get married, I will tell my children about you.
I will think of you when I travel to foreign shores, I will remember your laughter and your joy for life.
I will always love you.
Your affectionate niece,
Indeewaree Malki Thotawattage
