Remembering my father, Eric Cooray

Once, during a heated conversation, I became impulsive and raised my voice. He patiently let me finish and calmly responded, “Krisha, remember one thing—you won’t scare me by raising the volume of your voice.” That exchange was Eric Cooray in a nutshell

Almost every day starts and ends with thoughts of my father, from fond memories of my childhood, to imagining how proud he would be of his beloved grandchildren. Throughout my life, he inspired me in countless ways

We lived down Airport Road, Ratmalana, and he would drop me off at a Montessori on Second Lane, run by Mrs. Manawadu. Whether on foot or by car, we always made a stop at ‘Wijaya House’ bakery for my favorite short eats

Even in those early days, he was impeccably dressed, his shoes always polished. He was neat, unlike me. Calm and firm, he exuded a strong personality and a deep understanding of the human condition. Few things left a mark on me as much as his resolve to avoid hurting others and his insistence on fearlessly doing what was right for others regardless of the personal toll on himself.

This will be my first Christmas without my father, Eric Cooray, who passed away three months ago. Life has felt strange since that inevitable moment, one I always dreaded, while never anticipating just how difficult his loss would be to accept.

Almost every day starts and ends with thoughts of my father, from fond memories of my childhood, to imagining how proud he would be of his beloved grandchildren. Throughout my life, he inspired me in countless ways. Even now, I draw so much strength from memories of him that it still feels like he is guiding me from the heavens, giving me the strength to keep moving forward.

I remember a day in April 2023 when my family bid farewell to him after a brief visit to Sri Lanka. We prayed together as we always did, but that time my father struggled to finish. After I completed the Lord’s Prayer and Psalm 91 for him, he quietly confided in me, “Krisha, I am now getting weak.” It was a somber statement, matter-of-factly trying to prepare me for what was to come.

A couple of months later, he fell ill, eventually becoming bedridden. He passed away on August 26, 2024. Since then, memories of him have filled my days, many as simple as how he would take me to school as a child.

We lived down Airport Road, Ratmalana, and he would drop me off at a Montessori on Second Lane, run by Mrs. Manawadu. Whether on foot or by car, we always made a stop at ‘Wijaya House’ bakery for my favorite short eats. Thaththa ensured my lunch box was perfectly packed. If we were walking, he held my hand tightly, never letting go. He was protective and responsible, but never overbearing. Upon arrival, he would hug me and draw a cross on my forehead, saying, “God bless you putha.”

Impeccably dressed

Even in those early days, he was impeccably dressed, his shoes always polished. He was neat, unlike me. Calm and firm, he exuded a strong personality and a deep understanding of the human condition. Few things left a mark on me as much as his resolve to avoid hurting others and his insistence on fearlessly doing what was right for others regardless of the personal toll on himself. Despite having plenty of opportunity to do so, he never threw his weight around.

Once, during a heated conversation, I became impulsive and raised my voice. He patiently let me finish and calmly responded, “Krisha, remember one thing—you won’t scare me by raising the volume of your voice.” That exchange was Eric Cooray in a nutshell. He spoke little, but no less than necessary to hammer his point home. His words were thoughtful, impactful and delivered with compassion and grace.

Reflecting on his principles, I realise they were shaped by his faith and disciplined life, almost regimental in nature. He rose before daybreak, attended morning mass daily, walked afterward, had breakfast, then went to work. He never missed a meal and always remained punctual. His routine included an evening walk, an hour of prayer, watching the news, and then bedtime.

Life wasn’t easy for Eric Cooray. Coming from a humble Catholic family in Payagala, he lost his father at 15 and took care of his mother and younger siblings alongside his brothers Christy and Evans. Family, next to God, mattered most to him. He lovingly cared for his family—first his mother and siblings, then after marriage his wife and children, and eventually his grandchildren.

When he married my mother, they began their life together with nothing to their name barring their love and devotion to each other. Although my mother hailed from a wealthy family, she went against her family’s wishes. My father rolled the dice on various business ventures, succeeding in some but not in others, yet he never gave up. He held on to his faith and persevered.

Folly or petty gossip

He empathized with others and never tolerated folly or petty gossip. Conversations comprising complaints about other people were cut short with, “Don’t waste your time talking about a person who is a waste of time.” Yet, he helped sincerely deserving individuals without hesitation and without boasting.

My brothers and I were fortunate; our father never embarrassed us, never drank heavily, nor used foul language. We were proud of him. Whenever anyone asked me whether I was Eric Cooray’s son, my response was always a proud and emphatic “yes.”

From the time my children were born, we always lived with my parents under the same roof. My father doted over his granddaughters, the daughters he never had. Few things gave him as much joy as watching them grow up at home, peppering him with questions, eating with him and falling asleep next to him

Perhaps for this reason more than anything else, it broke my heart when my wife, children and I had to leave Sri Lanka in late 2019. My father was among those who feared for our safety had we remained, even though it broke his heart to have to live in a much emptier house, speaking to girls only on video calls for two and a half years. Even after we were able to visit Sri Lanka safely, life abroad meant that my father saw us no more than a few times a year.

I am grateful that we were able to be with him in his final moments. I held him as he passed, with my mother and younger brother also by his side. He looked at us in those last moments, seemingly ready and at peace. What little solace I have around his passing flows from the fact that he seemed assured of his destination.

I will miss him deeply and may never accept that he is truly absent. Throughout my life, in challenging times, whenever I felt exhausted or defeated, my father’s words echoed in my mind: “Krisha, never get ruffled,” “Krisha, don’t create problems for yourself,” “Krisha, never hurt anyone’s feelings,” and “Krisha, manage everything properly.” The principles and standards of Eric Cooray often seem beyond my reach, but that has never stopped me from trying to live up to them every day of my life.

Thinking of him fills my heart with both sorrow and strength. Even now, his memory offers me a sense of resilience and, at times, a touch of wisdom, even as we prepare to celebrate Christmas without him for the first time.

Life is a journey marked by the arrivals and departures of those we hold dear. As we navigate these moments, we are steered by the impact our loved ones have had on us. My father would want to be remembered for his unwavering faith, calm demeanor, and boundless kindness. He taught me to face adversity with grace, to be generous and kind, and to live a life of integrity. Though he is no longer with us, his legacy lives on in the values he instilled in all of us. We honour his memory by embodying the principles he held dear, ensuring that his light continues to shine through my actions and the lives of those he touched.