A Father's Tribute
The outpouring of support from family, friends, and the Saranac Lake community at large has been nothing short of astounding. Thank you so much. Your support means the world to me and my family.
Please accept this tribute to Eli as a small way of showing my thanks.
Elisha Kane Drury
(Nitai Das)
April 29, 1980 – January 31, 2012
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Eli was named after a distant relative of mine Elisha Kent Kane who was an arctic explorer. While Eli never became a wilderness explorer he certainly was an explorer of a different kind. He explored the world, he explored spirituality and he explored ways to feed people. As I have learned over the last two months he had a memorable impact on those around him. It is a terrible thing to lose a child but I take some solace that he did make a difference in his short time with us.
As a young child Eli was a great kid. He was polite, fun loving, affectionate, curious, and cautiously adventurous. He had a quiet self-confidence that I admired. He had only one serious flaw. He was ruthless towards his younger brother Dustin. His mother and I encouraged him to be a better brother and frequently disciplined him for his poor brotherly behavior. Nothing seemed to have any real impact. I guess it proves that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree because I was the same way towards my younger sister Carol.
Eli enjoyed youth sports and played baseball and basketball. He wasn’t the greatest athlete but was the kind of kid a coach loved to have on his team because he was so coachable. He listened, did what he was told, and had no ego. He showed a natural aptitude for art and created some very original artwork. He participated in community events like the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival (he was a Page one year), and spent many days in the outdoors with his mother and me.
As a young child Eli was a great kid. He was polite, fun loving, affectionate, curious, and cautiously adventurous. He had a quiet self-confidence that I admired. He had only one serious flaw. He was ruthless towards his younger brother Dustin. His mother and I encouraged him to be a better brother and frequently disciplined him for his poor brotherly behavior. Nothing seemed to have any real impact. I guess it proves that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree because I was the same way towards my younger sister Carol.
Eli enjoyed youth sports and played baseball and basketball. He wasn’t the greatest athlete but was the kind of kid a coach loved to have on his team because he was so coachable. He listened, did what he was told, and had no ego. He showed a natural aptitude for art and created some very original artwork. He participated in community events like the Saranac Lake Winter Carnival (he was a Page one year), and spent many days in the outdoors with his mother and me.
ELI
Eli during the teen years.
When adolescence arrived Eli’s personality changed dramatically. The cheery kid took on a sullen attitude and seemed to thrive in the alternative culture. For his parents he was a real challenge but his closest childhood friend once observed, “Eli never changed deep down. He was still the same old Eli.” He was looking for something and in time he found it.
Eli was particularly disillusioned with the local school district so I offered him the opportunity to try a year at a private school. To his credit he jumped at the opportunity and while it didn’t provide exactly what he was yearning for it did turn out to be a worthwhile experience with him meeting students from a variety of countries and opening his eyes to the world around him. I remember him commenting about the school on the ride home at the end of the school year, “How can you love a place and hate a place so much at the same time?”
Eli was particularly disillusioned with the local school district so I offered him the opportunity to try a year at a private school. To his credit he jumped at the opportunity and while it didn’t provide exactly what he was yearning for it did turn out to be a worthwhile experience with him meeting students from a variety of countries and opening his eyes to the world around him. I remember him commenting about the school on the ride home at the end of the school year, “How can you love a place and hate a place so much at the same time?”
ELI
Eli and me in New Vrindavan
He soon hit the road traveling cross country and eventually found the spiritual path with Krishna Consciousness. It proved to be the right path for Eli. As he told me once, “I couldn’t leave the destructive lifestyle behind without help. I needed the guidance of a higher power.” It was with the guidance of Krishna Consciousness that he cleaned up his act, found his passion (spreading the word through food), and met his wonderful wife. I will be eternally grateful to ISKON for these three things.
I visited Eli some 20 or so times in different parts of the world. From Maine to Florida, Columbus, Ohio to London, UK I got to see him in his environment. Three visits stand out. The first was in London in 2004. I met him in London where I stayed in a Temple once owned by former Beatle George Harrison in the London suburbs. We traveled together over to Oxford so he could visit the Oxford Center for Hindu Studies. He had set up a meeting with the director and I was pleased when I heard the director ask the same question I had been asking him, “What do you want to be doing and where do you want to be in ten years?” I was impressed with Eli’s ability to find his way around the country side and also with his computer expertise. He was self-conscious about his lack of formal education but his colleagues laughed it off. One of his friends with a Master’s Degree in Computer Science said to me, “I have formal education but it is all theoretical. Eli knows more about using technology than I do.”
I visited Eli some 20 or so times in different parts of the world. From Maine to Florida, Columbus, Ohio to London, UK I got to see him in his environment. Three visits stand out. The first was in London in 2004. I met him in London where I stayed in a Temple once owned by former Beatle George Harrison in the London suburbs. We traveled together over to Oxford so he could visit the Oxford Center for Hindu Studies. He had set up a meeting with the director and I was pleased when I heard the director ask the same question I had been asking him, “What do you want to be doing and where do you want to be in ten years?” I was impressed with Eli’s ability to find his way around the country side and also with his computer expertise. He was self-conscious about his lack of formal education but his colleagues laughed it off. One of his friends with a Master’s Degree in Computer Science said to me, “I have formal education but it is all theoretical. Eli knows more about using technology than I do.”
eli
Mandali and Eli in NYC
The second visit was in New York City in 2006. We drove down to spend time with Eli at a Krishna festival and I think it was the first time I felt he was actually excited about our visit. Why? Because he had a lady friend he wanted us to meet. An attractive woman in traditional Indian dress approached Phyliss and me on the edge of Central Park and said, “You must be Eli’s father.” I responded, “How did you know?” She said, “Eli said you had a red beard.” Bear in mind I hadn’t had anything but a grey beard for a number of years. You can understand how she immediately made a positive impression on me. Phyliss and I immediately fell in love with Mandali and I was so happy to see two young people madly in love. As an adult, I never saw Eli happier. He was just beaming the entire time. Unbeknownst to us they were married a short time later.
eli
Eli with the Health Dept inspector and an event organizer at the Wanderlust festival.
The third visit was the last time I saw Eli. It was last June. He was coordinating the “Krishna Kitchen,” a food service program he started for selling food and promoting Krishna Consciousness at various festivals. His most dramatic success with this was annually at the Burning Man Festival in Nevada but in this case he was coordinating food at the first eastern Wonderlust Yoga and Music festival in Stratton, VT. He called me about a month before and invited me to come over and I immediately said yes Phyliss and I would come over for the weekend portion of the festival. He said okay but that he would have more time to spend with me if I came over during the week. I eventually planned to come over the Friday of the event and stay through the weekend. About a week before the event he called and asked if I could come over earlier. I said I could but I asked why. His response was that they had been told that they were one of four food venders and it turned out that they would be the only food vender. He went from planning about 1000 meals to needing to plan 4000 meals. As only Eli could do, not only did he have me come over but he asked me to bring my truck and swing to northern Vermont and buy some food tray warmers that he found on Craig’s list and stop at Costco and Lowe’s to buy flour, corn oil (15 gallons,) some canopy tents, and other odds and ends.
I arrived in the early evening and found Eli, Mandali, and his crew in a small building on the edge of the festival. He was busy coordinating activities but made sure I got fed after I helped unload all my goodies. I was fascinated watching him in action. He was great at multi-tasking. He would be talking to two or more people and also talking on his i-Phone via its ear bud. He was happy that I had been able to get everything he needed and getting quite a deal with the food tray warmers. He had made preparations for me to stay at the same place he was staying which was a devotee’s farmhouse a 25 minute drive from Stratton. As was always the case when visiting Eli, his fellow devotees I was introduced to were kind, generous, and welcoming to me. As I went to bed that night I marveled at the work Eli did and wondered how he dealt with the various state health departments around the country and their varying and frequently mind numbing regulations.
I found out the next morning when I walked in right after a health inspector for the state of Vermont had arrived. He was a gentleman around my age and he walked around sticking his little electric thermometer in everything. When he was all done he had only two problems. The milk was two degrees too warm which really ticked Eli off as it had just come from the grocery store but he wrote off the 7 gallons as the cost of doing business. The other problem was the dishwashing facilities. They were inadequate. I loved how Eli handled it. He agreed completely and then proceeded to show the inspector, on his i-Phone, the emails with the event organizers telling them explicitly what he needed but hadn’t been provided.The photo here, that I’m happy to say he used as his Facebook profile picture, of him talking on the phone with the inspector and an event organizer standing by as he negotiated for better dishwashing facilities clearly demonstrates what he did for a living. They eventually had to relocate to another site that ended up being better as it was closer to the evening's events. That evening I assisted in transporting food from the prep site to the event tent and Phyliss helped dish out thousands of dishes of healthy vegetarian Krishna food. People lined up for food just after Deepok Chopra spoke and musician Andrew Bird played. It was a memorable event and made a dad proud. I left that weekend feeling confident that Eli had found his niche and that he had the chance to make a living at this and provide the financial security that might allow him to start a family. Unfortunately that was not to be.
I arrived in the early evening and found Eli, Mandali, and his crew in a small building on the edge of the festival. He was busy coordinating activities but made sure I got fed after I helped unload all my goodies. I was fascinated watching him in action. He was great at multi-tasking. He would be talking to two or more people and also talking on his i-Phone via its ear bud. He was happy that I had been able to get everything he needed and getting quite a deal with the food tray warmers. He had made preparations for me to stay at the same place he was staying which was a devotee’s farmhouse a 25 minute drive from Stratton. As was always the case when visiting Eli, his fellow devotees I was introduced to were kind, generous, and welcoming to me. As I went to bed that night I marveled at the work Eli did and wondered how he dealt with the various state health departments around the country and their varying and frequently mind numbing regulations.
I found out the next morning when I walked in right after a health inspector for the state of Vermont had arrived. He was a gentleman around my age and he walked around sticking his little electric thermometer in everything. When he was all done he had only two problems. The milk was two degrees too warm which really ticked Eli off as it had just come from the grocery store but he wrote off the 7 gallons as the cost of doing business. The other problem was the dishwashing facilities. They were inadequate. I loved how Eli handled it. He agreed completely and then proceeded to show the inspector, on his i-Phone, the emails with the event organizers telling them explicitly what he needed but hadn’t been provided.The photo here, that I’m happy to say he used as his Facebook profile picture, of him talking on the phone with the inspector and an event organizer standing by as he negotiated for better dishwashing facilities clearly demonstrates what he did for a living. They eventually had to relocate to another site that ended up being better as it was closer to the evening's events. That evening I assisted in transporting food from the prep site to the event tent and Phyliss helped dish out thousands of dishes of healthy vegetarian Krishna food. People lined up for food just after Deepok Chopra spoke and musician Andrew Bird played. It was a memorable event and made a dad proud. I left that weekend feeling confident that Eli had found his niche and that he had the chance to make a living at this and provide the financial security that might allow him to start a family. Unfortunately that was not to be.
Eli
Saying Eli’s death has been a painful shock is an understatement. I don’t know anyone who wants to outlive their children and the pain of losing Eli far surpasses all previous “life’s worst moments” combined. The funeral in Gainsville, FL and ceremony in Mayapur, India helped me learn about the impact Eli had on so many and initiate closure on our loss. I share a bit of our experience for those of you who weren’t there and might be interested in the unique aspects of a Hare Krishna, Hindu-based funeral. The funeral took place at the Milam Funeral Home, a traditional American funeral home but the service was all Krishna Consciousness. From what I gathered the Alachua Hare Krishna community is the largest in the U.S. with over 1500 devotees living in the area. As a result they appear to have a unique relationship with the Milam Funeral Home which became evident during our experience. We arrived at the funeral home and were ushered into a reposing room with seating capacity of about 100 people. There were two tables where we put lots of photos of Eli from childhood through adulthood and his coffin, in the middle, was draped with an Indian tapestry with a beautiful photo of Eli and his wife Mandali above it. I didn’t even realize it was Eli’s coffin until part way through the service. It turns out Mandali didn’t realize it until the end of the service. A couple of devotees were chanting Hare Krishna accompanied by an Indian drum called a mridangam and a small harmonium on the floor to one side of the room. Our good Saranac Lake friends Karen and Ross Dailey were there with some wonderful pictures of Eli with their son Ryan, Eli’s best childhood friend. There was a brief ceremony and then eulogies. Carmen, myself, Dustin, and Mandali all shared some thoughts and memories. There were some wonderful eulogies from Eli’s friends but unfortunately time ran short before everyone could share their thoughts.
My favorite story demonstrated Eli’s compassion as well as his business acumen. A colleague told of Eli making plans for the Burning Man Festival. Eli had decided to rent a refrigerated tractor trailer truck to keep all their produce fresh. The Krishna Kitchen only needed about half the space but Eli figured he would pay for the rental of the truck by renting out the remainder of the space. Vendors rented the footprint of a wooden pallet and could stack their produce up to the ceiling. It was working out well except one vendor accused the Krishna Kitchen people of stealing a case of melons. They threatened not to pay the rental fee. Eli was compassionate telling them that the Krishna Kitchen staff had not stolen their melons but offering to contact the produce company and see if they could track them down. He demonstrated his business acumen by telling them that if they didn’t pay the rental fee that was okay too. He would have the rest of their produce immediately taken out of the cooler and left in the hot desert. I learned a lot about Eli in that short story.
As the priest wrapped up the ceremony the tempo of chanting picked up as did the volume. The casket was wheeled out the door through the garage into the crematorium. We were told only immediate family could attend (meaning Carmen, me, Mandali, and Dustin) but before you know it about fifteen people followed us into this small crowded dusty room. As the casket was cranked up to the level of the crematorium doors the priest started reading Sanskrit at a rapid pace. We were all sobbing as the sound of the chanting could be heard above the priest’s voice. The doors to the crematorium were opened and the four of us pushed the casket in. The doors were closed and we put our hands on the two buttons and started the fire. All these events combined with our overwhelming grief made for a surreal experience but I feel it provided a form of closure that is missing from most western funerals. It reminded me of something I had read about the funerals of the Chipewyan people from northern Canada. The tribe has a procession in which everyone wails and chants in an elaborate and extensive expression of emotion. But like a violent thunderstorm, the intense emotion passes, and soon after there is calm and the sun returns. I also thought of the Chipewyan widow who shaves her head at the time of her spouse’s death. The duration of her grief is limited by the natural regrowth of her hair. When her hair grows out her mourning is over. I tell people that my hair is still growing out.
Following the funeral we met many of Eli’s friends and chatted for a while. I was emotionally exhausted but Eli’s friends were hoping we would come out to the Krishna community for their Sunday feast that evening. We ended up going and I’m glad we did. We got to meet the parents and family of one of the other men who died in the accident. We also sat in on part of the evening Kirtan, the practice of chanting the Hare Krishna mantra that they do on a daily basis. Exhausted we got back to our hotel room to catch most of the last quarter of the Super Bowl and take some small enjoyment in the Giants come from behind victory.
On Monday Carmen, Bob, Phyliss, Dustin, Angela, and I returned to New York City still in the throes of grief. Early Tuesday morning Phyliss and Bob headed back to Saranac Lake while the rest of us showed up early to apply for our travel visas for India. It was a very bureaucratic process but the people were very friendly. We were told to make our plane reservations which we hadn’t done for fear that we wouldn’t get the visas. We were told to return at 5:30 that afternoon to pick the visas up. We spent the day shopping for odds and ends for our trip and had no problem getting our visas for the next day’s trip to India. The city was abuzz with the Giants Super Bowl victory parade and Dustin observed that thousands of people we chanting Eli’s name that day. For those of you who don’t watch professional football, Eli Manning is the Giants Super Bowl victorious quarterback. It was a pleasant irony.
My favorite story demonstrated Eli’s compassion as well as his business acumen. A colleague told of Eli making plans for the Burning Man Festival. Eli had decided to rent a refrigerated tractor trailer truck to keep all their produce fresh. The Krishna Kitchen only needed about half the space but Eli figured he would pay for the rental of the truck by renting out the remainder of the space. Vendors rented the footprint of a wooden pallet and could stack their produce up to the ceiling. It was working out well except one vendor accused the Krishna Kitchen people of stealing a case of melons. They threatened not to pay the rental fee. Eli was compassionate telling them that the Krishna Kitchen staff had not stolen their melons but offering to contact the produce company and see if they could track them down. He demonstrated his business acumen by telling them that if they didn’t pay the rental fee that was okay too. He would have the rest of their produce immediately taken out of the cooler and left in the hot desert. I learned a lot about Eli in that short story.
As the priest wrapped up the ceremony the tempo of chanting picked up as did the volume. The casket was wheeled out the door through the garage into the crematorium. We were told only immediate family could attend (meaning Carmen, me, Mandali, and Dustin) but before you know it about fifteen people followed us into this small crowded dusty room. As the casket was cranked up to the level of the crematorium doors the priest started reading Sanskrit at a rapid pace. We were all sobbing as the sound of the chanting could be heard above the priest’s voice. The doors to the crematorium were opened and the four of us pushed the casket in. The doors were closed and we put our hands on the two buttons and started the fire. All these events combined with our overwhelming grief made for a surreal experience but I feel it provided a form of closure that is missing from most western funerals. It reminded me of something I had read about the funerals of the Chipewyan people from northern Canada. The tribe has a procession in which everyone wails and chants in an elaborate and extensive expression of emotion. But like a violent thunderstorm, the intense emotion passes, and soon after there is calm and the sun returns. I also thought of the Chipewyan widow who shaves her head at the time of her spouse’s death. The duration of her grief is limited by the natural regrowth of her hair. When her hair grows out her mourning is over. I tell people that my hair is still growing out.
Following the funeral we met many of Eli’s friends and chatted for a while. I was emotionally exhausted but Eli’s friends were hoping we would come out to the Krishna community for their Sunday feast that evening. We ended up going and I’m glad we did. We got to meet the parents and family of one of the other men who died in the accident. We also sat in on part of the evening Kirtan, the practice of chanting the Hare Krishna mantra that they do on a daily basis. Exhausted we got back to our hotel room to catch most of the last quarter of the Super Bowl and take some small enjoyment in the Giants come from behind victory.
On Monday Carmen, Bob, Phyliss, Dustin, Angela, and I returned to New York City still in the throes of grief. Early Tuesday morning Phyliss and Bob headed back to Saranac Lake while the rest of us showed up early to apply for our travel visas for India. It was a very bureaucratic process but the people were very friendly. We were told to make our plane reservations which we hadn’t done for fear that we wouldn’t get the visas. We were told to return at 5:30 that afternoon to pick the visas up. We spent the day shopping for odds and ends for our trip and had no problem getting our visas for the next day’s trip to India. The city was abuzz with the Giants Super Bowl victory parade and Dustin observed that thousands of people we chanting Eli’s name that day. For those of you who don’t watch professional football, Eli Manning is the Giants Super Bowl victorious quarterback. It was a pleasant irony.
Eli
Mandali, Eli's mom, Dustin, me, and friends of Eli's in India
Late Wednesday we got a ride to Newark and started our journey to Mayapur, India. I consider myself a well traveled person having traveled extensively throughout North and Central America, Europe, the Middle East, and even Siberia but India is a unique experience. We flew directly from Newark to Mumbai (Bombay) located on the west coast of India. From there we went through customs and flew to Kolkata (Calcutta) on the east coast. We were told that people would be waiting to drive us the two and a half hours from Kolkata to Mayapur. Thankfully they were. The first thing you notice when walking out the airport door are the sheer number of people. They are running about by foot, bicycle, rickshaw, motorcycle, and automobile all tooting horns. We hopped in a well traveled Land Cruiser and headed down the highway and for two and a half hours we had a very memorable trip. Driving in India is like no other driving experience I’ve ever had. I thought the drivers in the Middle East were crazy but the Indians take the cake. Someone once told me that the British drive on the left side of the road, the Americans on the right side and the Indians on both sides. I found that to be true. After safely arriving in Mayapur I observed that it was ironic that Eli died in a car accident in Florida and not on one of his numerous trips to India.
Once in Mayapur we caught up with Carmen’s brother Nityo, Eli’s wife Mandali, and many devotees who knew Eli well. I can’t begin to describe our stay in India other than we were incredibly well taken care of and heard many stories of how Eli had touched the lives of so many people. To get a little feel for our experience I encourage you to watch the video I compiled on You Tube. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FEp_vJrC5I)
I’ll wrap up this piece with a description of our ceremony on the Ganges River the day before we left India. I quote from my journal for that day, “Today’s the day – not much sleep last night – got up, showered – put on my Yogi pants and Indian shirt – I’m sad but ready. As we look out from the 3rd floor we see a small crowd gathering and starting to chant. There a number of swamis and priests attending but Carmen, Dustin, Mandali, and I are the guests of honor. We have a procession of about fifty people who make the fifteen minute walk that exits the compound, heads down the road, and over to the Ganges River where a boat awaits. It is an old boat. It starts with a hand crank. It’s the kind that you imagine makes headlines when it capsizes and all aboard drown. The chanting continues as we load the boat. It is surreal! We head downstream a bit to what I believe is a large sandbar/island. Maybe it is the far shore. We get out and the driver goes back for another load. Eli’s friends lead the chanting while we wait in the warmth of the sun. I only know a small portion of the people. I find out later that a woman’s ashes are also being immersed in the Ganges today as well. The second boat load joins us. There are a number of people who are videoing and photographing the event. I see everything from point and shoot cameras and i-Pads, to expensive DSLRs and video cameras. A colleague of Eli’s comes over and explains the service to us. He tells us we need to be strong. I tell Dustin, ‘That’s easy for him to say.’
There is a pause in the chanting….It starts up again. I continue to feel I’m in a fog although a warm fog.
The priest, an Australian I believe, starts the ceremony. There is a round straw tray about 18” in diameter. They line it with a layer of river mud. Mandali pours Eli’s ashes on to the tray along with some ghee, honey, and sesame seeds. Carmen, Dustin, Mandali, and I cover the ashes and nourishment with more river mud. Carmen’s brother Nityo, a long time devotee, takes the ashes out into waist deep water. There are many spoken words of which I understand none until they say out loud in unison, ‘Nita Das.’ I say out loud, ‘Elisha Kane Drury.’ At one point I break away and walk down stream to collect some water of the Ganges as a keepsake.”
I can’t get George Harrison’s songs, “All Things Must Pass” and “My Sweet Lord” out of my head.
We make our way back to the mainland and convene in a spacious room where we are served a great meal of prasadam (holy food) that is an interesting mix of traditional Hare Krishna food and an Italian pasta dish. It turns out Eli had a soft spot for Italian food. There are opportunities for more eulogies and it is poignant to hear the young people tell how Eli touched their lives. I speak with great difficulty but my message is simple. When our children our born, particularly our first born child, we have dreams and aspirations for them. It has taken me a long time to realize that those were my dreams. While those dreams and aspirations are worthy you have to let go of them and realize that the important dreams and aspirations are not yours but your children’s. Because of my dad dying when I was 17 I never, as an adult, got to know my dad. Now I realize that I never really got to know my son when he was an adult. It is a sad realization.
The eulogies go on for a long time. Finally near dark, emotionally drained, we had back to our room and prepare for our return home the next day.
Once in Mayapur we caught up with Carmen’s brother Nityo, Eli’s wife Mandali, and many devotees who knew Eli well. I can’t begin to describe our stay in India other than we were incredibly well taken care of and heard many stories of how Eli had touched the lives of so many people. To get a little feel for our experience I encourage you to watch the video I compiled on You Tube. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FEp_vJrC5I)
I’ll wrap up this piece with a description of our ceremony on the Ganges River the day before we left India. I quote from my journal for that day, “Today’s the day – not much sleep last night – got up, showered – put on my Yogi pants and Indian shirt – I’m sad but ready. As we look out from the 3rd floor we see a small crowd gathering and starting to chant. There a number of swamis and priests attending but Carmen, Dustin, Mandali, and I are the guests of honor. We have a procession of about fifty people who make the fifteen minute walk that exits the compound, heads down the road, and over to the Ganges River where a boat awaits. It is an old boat. It starts with a hand crank. It’s the kind that you imagine makes headlines when it capsizes and all aboard drown. The chanting continues as we load the boat. It is surreal! We head downstream a bit to what I believe is a large sandbar/island. Maybe it is the far shore. We get out and the driver goes back for another load. Eli’s friends lead the chanting while we wait in the warmth of the sun. I only know a small portion of the people. I find out later that a woman’s ashes are also being immersed in the Ganges today as well. The second boat load joins us. There are a number of people who are videoing and photographing the event. I see everything from point and shoot cameras and i-Pads, to expensive DSLRs and video cameras. A colleague of Eli’s comes over and explains the service to us. He tells us we need to be strong. I tell Dustin, ‘That’s easy for him to say.’
There is a pause in the chanting….It starts up again. I continue to feel I’m in a fog although a warm fog.
The priest, an Australian I believe, starts the ceremony. There is a round straw tray about 18” in diameter. They line it with a layer of river mud. Mandali pours Eli’s ashes on to the tray along with some ghee, honey, and sesame seeds. Carmen, Dustin, Mandali, and I cover the ashes and nourishment with more river mud. Carmen’s brother Nityo, a long time devotee, takes the ashes out into waist deep water. There are many spoken words of which I understand none until they say out loud in unison, ‘Nita Das.’ I say out loud, ‘Elisha Kane Drury.’ At one point I break away and walk down stream to collect some water of the Ganges as a keepsake.”
I can’t get George Harrison’s songs, “All Things Must Pass” and “My Sweet Lord” out of my head.
We make our way back to the mainland and convene in a spacious room where we are served a great meal of prasadam (holy food) that is an interesting mix of traditional Hare Krishna food and an Italian pasta dish. It turns out Eli had a soft spot for Italian food. There are opportunities for more eulogies and it is poignant to hear the young people tell how Eli touched their lives. I speak with great difficulty but my message is simple. When our children our born, particularly our first born child, we have dreams and aspirations for them. It has taken me a long time to realize that those were my dreams. While those dreams and aspirations are worthy you have to let go of them and realize that the important dreams and aspirations are not yours but your children’s. Because of my dad dying when I was 17 I never, as an adult, got to know my dad. Now I realize that I never really got to know my son when he was an adult. It is a sad realization.
The eulogies go on for a long time. Finally near dark, emotionally drained, we had back to our room and prepare for our return home the next day.
Conclusion
Dad and his canoe partner Eli.
I am currently reading a book about the Canadian far north. I’ve paddled up there a couple of times and have come to love the region and hope to return someday. The book by Rob Kesselring called Daughter, Father, Canoe is about a 200 mile voyage with his 14 year old daughter. I was fortunate to have gone on many camping trips and outdoor excursions with Eli as a child and a particularly memorable two-week canoe trip when he was 18. It wasn't always roses and sunshine but I'll cherish the times together. In Kesselring's book he makes an observation that seems pertinent. “How do you let your children know how much you love them? Can they understand their quirks, vulnerabilities and mistakes make them even more deeply cherished? …our lives pass like the flash of a falling star. A little zap of energy and then we vanish. All that lasts is what we pass on to our children and those we love.” Looking back on my letters to Eli I see that I certainly tried to tell him how much I loved him but I’m not certain the message was received. For good or bad I was one of the few people in his life that showed him tough love more times than I’m sure he wanted to receive it. One of his friends said that Eli was a Pied Piper of sorts. I have learned that it is true. I was one of the few people that said no to him on a consistent basis. Even though the message was consistently wrapped in the words of love I’m not sure, given the context, that he heard it. Then again I’m not sure that any child hears it until it may be too late.
ELI
Thanks again for your thoughts, prayers, support over the past couple of months.
Video of our experience in Florida and India: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FEp_vJrC5I
Facebook Memories:
http://www.facebook.com/remembernitai
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=724282453
Donations to his wife can be made to:
Mandali Mendrila
RR 1, NBU 38
Moundsville, WV 26041
Video of our experience in Florida and India: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FEp_vJrC5I
Facebook Memories:
http://www.facebook.com/remembernitai
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=724282453
Donations to his wife can be made to:
Mandali Mendrila
RR 1, NBU 38
Moundsville, WV 26041
3/2012
