The house still stands where it always did,

along a quiet road,

holding within its walls

The echoes of a lifetime.

The laughter, the moments.

The photographs hang silently on the walls.

The footsteps that once moved from room to room.

The morning light still falls through the curtains,

and dust gathers softly where your laughter used to shine.

Shadows stretched further on Sunday afternoons,

Two plates sit at the table, just as before,

But silence rests between them.

Two empty chairs remain,

holding the shape of those who once filled them.

I still find myself glancing towards them,

expecting a smile,

a gentle question,

a familiar voice.

Karl and Chitha.

A love story not written in grand declarations,

But in ordinary days, repeated faithfully over a lifetime.

The kind of love that asks for nothing,

Yet somehow gives away everything.

When illness came

and the years grew heavier,

my father never stepped away.

Night after night, Year after year.

I watched him hold my mother's hand

until she fell asleep.

As though his touch could carry away her fears.

As though love itself could stand guard through the darkness.

And perhaps it did.

For in that simple act,

Repeated thousands of times,

He taught me more about devotion

than any words ever could.

Not through promises.

Not through speeches.

But through showing up,

again and again,

for the person he loved.

My mother taught me different things.

She taught me wonder.

The courage to look beyond the horizon.

That every stranger is a friend in the making.

That every journey begins long before the first step.

I have crossed mountains and oceans,

walked through deserts,

stood on frozen ground,

danced beneath the Northern Lights,

and shared meals with strangers

Yet every journey began here,

in Shady Grove,

Most of all, she gave me something else.

The colour of her eyes.

A part of her spirit.

A part of her personality.

She called me her "Ranti Putha."

Her golden son.

I hope I have lived up to that grace.

Even now,

I can still hear her voice.

The name remains warm

in places where grief cannot reach, that heart has reclaimed.

Today I leave this house.

Not because it is no longer home,

But because now home travels with me.

I close the gate behind me

With sadness in my heart,

but also with excitement.

For I can hear her voice once more,

as clearly as if she were standing beside me.

"Don't be afraid. The future is yours, now live it

This is only a new chapter, and it has only just begun."

The rooms will fall silent.

The garden will continue to bloom.

The chairs will remain where they are.

But love does not leave

With those, we lose.

It lingers.

In stories.

In memories.

In kindness.

In every hand held in the dark.

I gave you my heart.

I gave you my days.

For every road I travel,

every story I tell,

and every kindness I offer

carries a little of you both.

As I walk away from Shady Grove,

I do not leave you behind.

My father's steadfast love walks beside me.

My mother's adventurous spirit leads the way.

And somewhere beyond, you are still together,

walking hand in hand with Him who created this world.

Smiling.

Laughing.

Free from pain.

As you always were.

As you always will be.

And if you can hear my thoughts

know that your son still loves you,

in his own quiet way.

31st May 2026

Shady Grove

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Seenigama Devalaya

සීනිගම දේවාලය

info@virandesilva.com | WhatsApp +447866742416

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