Joseph Theodore Rajaratnam David

Born December 1, 1913 in Megnanapuram, India, died April 22, 2014 in Bellevue. Survived by his 3 daughters, Minnie Sydney, Shanti Gordon and Irene David, 7 grandchildren and 7 great-grandchildren.

Family and friends are invited to attend a visitation in his honor on Sunday, April 27, 2014 from 12 noon to 3:00 PM at Sunset Funeral Home, 1215 145th Pl SE, Bellevue, WA.

A memorial service will be held Wednesday, April 30th at St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, 4228 Factoria Blvd SE, Bellevue, WA at 5:30 PM.

Arrangements under the direction of Sunset Hills Funeral Home, Bellevue, WA.

Genealogy:

Joseph Devararam Baringould David (Father)

Sanjeevi Slevabakkiam ( Mother)

Hannah Maragatham Dolly David ( Wife)

Minnie Sydney (Daughter)

Shanti Gordon (Daughter)

Irene David (Daughter)

Biography:

Dear Family, Friends, and Past Parishioners of Father Joseph David,

Thank you for being with us today as we pay our respects to Father Joseph David. Joseph David was born on December 1, 1913 in Megnanapuram, India. He and his siblings, Victor and Damayanthi, grew up in a family with a long history of service to the church with prior generations who had also served as priests. To this day, one can still travel to Megnanapuram, India and see the name “David” in a stained glass window at the church built by Joseph David’s great-grandfather and namesake.

After completing his engineering degree in India at Guindy Engineering College he later went on to use his background in engineering in service to the British army in the Royal Engineers. He was deployed to Egypt during World War II. I can still remember stories he used to tell me about enjoying a meal in the officer’s mess hall when I asked him about his time in the army.

During his time in the military, after the world war, Captain David married Dolly Joseph. They were married for 63 years. Together they had three lovely daughters; Minnie, Shanti, and Irene (each of whom was born in what is now a different country – Pakistan, India, and Burma). After he retired as a Major in the Indian Army, he moved to England. While living in England, Joseph David worked as a schoolteacher teaching high school students math and technical drawing until he retired. In the ‘70s the family again moved; this time to the United States of America. Joseph David again used his engineering degree when he found employment at the Hanford Nuclear Facility in Hanford, Washington where he worked for a number of years.

Father David’s life can best be summarized with one word: Active. Some of the things I remember my grandfather loving the most about life in America during his retirement were to drive nice cars (Lexus, BMW, Mercedes Benz, Buick, and Audi to name a few; though I think his favorite was his big green Cadillac which his grandsons Dinesh and Alfred used to enjoy riding in as boys), spend time in his workshop downstairs repairing wristwatches and clocks, staying physically fit through yoga and exercise at the gym until he was confined to a wheelchair in his late 90s, and his service as a priest. He actively took care of his wife after she was limited in mobility and he retained his independence by continuing to drive a car until the age of 96. He also loved attending church and attended 7 or 8 of them regularly.

Joseph David always looked to new challenges in life which led him to attend seminary school during his retirement at the age of 79. Father David was happy to find a new calling in life after he completed seminary school by serving his friends, family, and other parishioners as a priest at San Tomas Church in Shoreline, WA until his health prevented him from doing so, one month before his 100th birthday. From time to time, he still enjoyed holding the occasional church service from a wheelchair in his daughter Minnie’s home in Bellevue, WA. This dedication to the church led Father David’s grandson, Alfred Sturges, to also become a deacon and follow in our grandfather’s footsteps.

Joseph David leaves behind three daughters, four grandsons & three granddaughters, and three great-grandsons & four great-granddaughters. With a life spanning over a century, Father David lived a full life and has now found peace to be with his beloved wife Dolly.

Thank you for attending as we celebrate the remembrance of our father, grandfather, and great-grandfather.

Sincerely,

Dinesh Sydney.

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Thank you for coming to pay respects to our father, grandfather, and great-grandfather today.

My cousin Alfred and I have some fond memories of our David Thatha that we would both like to share. Here is mine first:

When I was a teenager I was relaxing at home once until my mother told me Thatha had just called her and asked for me to please come over. Upon asking my mother what he wanted me for, she told me he needed my help with a plumbing problem. I had no knowledge of plumbing and thought it would be a waste of my time, but my mother advised me to go anyway. When I arrived, Thatha asked me to crawl underneath the sink in his bathroom and told me what part he needed removed and what steps I needed to take to complete the task with which tools to use while he held the flashlight for me. Surprisingly, I followed his directions, as he found it difficult to climb underneath the sink and do it himself, and I was able to accomplish his request. When I went home I told my mother I couldn't figure out how that quiet man in his 80s had all this knowledge to tell me what to do with a complex task like this and only needed my help because something was out of reach for him. This was the first time my mother told me that Thatha had a degree in engineering and it was his career for some time. He really surprised and impressed me that day to see that something that was a part of his life so long ago was still a part of what made him the man he was in the present day. I believe that his resilience and independence are what made him live such a long life.

My feelings are that Father David’s life can best be summarized with one word: Active. Some of the things I remember my grandfather loving the most about life in America during his retirement were to drive nice cars (Lexus, BMW, Mercedes Benz, Buick, and Audi to name a few; though I think his favorite was his big green Cadillac which his grandsons Dinesh and Alfred used to enjoy riding in as boys), spend time in his workshop downstairs repairing wristwatches and clocks, staying physically fit through yoga and exercise at the gym until he was confined to a wheelchair in his late 90s, and his service as a priest. He actively took care of his wife after she was limited in mobility and he retained his independence by continuing to drive a car until the age of 96. He also loved attending church and attended 7 or 8 of them regularly.

Thatha, thank you for these fond memories as well as the memories of playing in the sprinkler at your house as a child, going on the camping trips you shared with us (especially at Tall Chief Resort, Ocean Shores, and Soap Lake here in our home state), and the snacks (especially Popsicles) you claimed to stock for us grandkids but used to enjoy yourself as well. I appreciate all that you have done for us and that I get to wear the David name with pride. I am happy that you are at peace with Dolly Pattiamma now.

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My cousin Alfred had this memory to share:

Some of my earliest memories of Thatha involved bumping heads. Literally. He would be happy to see me and would bend over, place a hand next to each of my ears, and then bump his head against mine.

When I think back to my teenage years, mostly I recall him asking me to help him with his computer. And it wasn't just a matter of showing him, he wanted to write down every step beginning with turning on the computer. Something that would take only a few minutes to do, ended up taking an hour to explain, a painfully long time for a teenager.

As an adult when I was taking him to buy groceries from Costco, he would ask me to also take him to Christian stores where he would take time looking through all the items, to once again decide which ones to buy as gifts for the children of St. Thomas.

In retrospect I think what he really wanted was to spend time with me. He liked having my cousins and I visit, and he would buy video games for us to play on the computer, and had several TVs so if Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy was on the big one we could still go into another room to watch “Sledge Hammer!” (a TV show during the mid 80's) on a smaller one. He would take us to Tall Chief, a resort, where we would go swimming and participate in arts and crafts and other programs in the club house.

As I grew I was better able to express to him my feelings. I learned to say no to things that I didn't enjoy doing, and that allowed the time we spent together to be of a better quality for both of us. I still indulged him in some time consuming activities, but it was my choice to participate, and that made it better.

I wouldn't be where I am today if it wasn't for him. As much as I disliked it, the time I spent writing out step by step directions for the computer helped me in both the customer service jobs I've had as well as the technical ones. It was the experience I had working with him for his church that paved the way for me to be a clergyman. And it was learning to express myself that led me to be able to truthfully state my intentions to the woman who became my wife.

I deeply appreciate the moments we had and what he taught me. Until I see him again in heaven I will miss him.

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I think when anyone remembers a grandmother, they think of food. That’s certainly true for my Pattiamma with the vadai she would make for every occasion, memories of rolling out puri dough and watching her fry it and this amazing noodle dish we would have every Christmas. When I remember my Thatha, I remember food, too. There were always boxes of Costco treats next to his chair and the good kind of ice cream bars in his freezer. My earliest spatial reasoning tasks were matching up the labels on the chocolate box lid with the chocolates in the tray in front of me. I can’t tell you how many times I ended up with a strawberry filling despite my best efforts to find caramel. When we visited Pattiamma in the hospital, Thatha would always point us to the nearest juice machine – and never failed to offer us Pattiamma’s jello cups.

When I moved out into my first apartment, Thatha and Pattiamma gave me a microwave and let me raid their kitchen for baking trays, colanders, spatulas, stirring spoons and all of the other pieces of cookware that are so hard to accumulate when you’re young. Many of these items made it down to LA with me and are still in regular use.

I’ll best remember Thatha together with Pattiamma as a team that was highly independent and always present for the family.

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In the past week, following Thatha's death, all of his grandchildren have been swapping stories and endearing memories, trying to put together a meaningful eulogy to represent his true character. I must admit, I found myself getting a bit jealous that my older cousins had all these fun and uplifting stories about Thatha. All I had was the head bump, which I agree, is something I'll remember very fondly about Thatha, and probably do with my own children someday. Other than that, I could only recall one particularly kind exchange between me and Thatha, and it's really only noteworthy, because that was so uncharacteristic of Thatha.

After I'd moved to Philadelphia, one long weekend when I returned home for a friend's wedding, Thatha griped to me, in classic Thatha-form, about how I am never home to see him. When I retorted about how I'm only here for such a short time, and there's so many people I need to try to see, he responded with understanding and kindness, saying to me: "I know, you're a very nice person, I'm sure a lot of people want to spend time with you." That's the nicest thing Thatha has ever said to me, and I'm really glad I have that memory to treasure in the decades ahead. However, that's not what I'll remember most about Thatha. That wasn't really who he was.

I'll remember Thatha for the independent, resilient, strong man that he was. The man that lovingly took care of his wife for another 12 years after she'd rehabilitated from her coma. The man who would exercise every day, and go to various churches every evening. The man who was driving at 96 years old, despite everyone in the family telling him that was a bad idea. The man, who even when he was no longer independent enough to live alone, still valued his quality of life by exercising and doing physical therapy while staying in my mom's house, so that he could walk with a walker through the age of 99. And even in his last days in the hospital, he consistently wanted to hold onto life. I'll carry my pride as a member of the David family, because of how he has inspired me to live with that love for life itself.

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My mum and aunts asked me to write a few words for Thatha’s funeral. I am pretty sure others will be talking about his days in the army and his faith, so I will share a few memories I have of him as a grandfather. My first memory of Thatha is from a winter visit to Washington when I was about 3. He fed me cubes of strawberry ice cream coated in chocolate, whilst taking a generous helping for himself. Pattiamma and my mum told him off for his unhealthy snack choice. Later that day he fetched us more strawberry ice cream treats. Worried we would be in trouble, I tried to refuse them. He gently put his head against mine and said “doo doo doo doo doo doo” and laughed. This affectionate gesture was something he repeated throughout my life into adulthood. He had several other distinct sayings and ways. As a child I thought they were all part of South Indian custom, but now I am beginning to realize most were just part of his unique charm. Whilst sitting watching TV or reading he would often take a deep breath in and then exclaim “yennnnnema” as he exhaled. The literal translation means “What dear”, and I was never really sure why he said it. It has however made its way into my own vocabulary and it is one of a handful of Tamil words my children say.

Thatha spent a lot of my youth mending broken clocks and watches. He gave my younger brother David plenty of watches, and I was given a fine white and gold pendant clock which still hangs from my mum’s ceiling. Over the years he continued to spoil us. When David was about 7 years old we celebrated Pattiamma and Thatha’s 50th wedding anniversary. There was a big party and David went to the front to watch the cake being cut. However, instead of feeding his wife the first slice, he fed it to David instead! Thatha and Pattiamma’s relationship was inspirational. They bickered a lot, and both told me they never bothered to vote as they were sure their opinions would cancel each other out in the ballot box. However it was obvious they had a huge love and respect for each other. This is particularly clear from the emails Thatha sent me about Pattiamma’s ailing health, and his frustrations that doctors were unable to make her better.

Thatha was always so proud of everything I achieved. As a teenager I was embarrassed when he bragged about my grades to anyone who would listen and tried to orchestrate piano recitals in his church. Now I am just impressed he cared enough about my minor achievements to want to celebrate them with checkout workers, doctors, church friends and insurance salesman to name but a few. He remained supportive of me even when I made choices he did not agree with. When as a student I took an elective in Uganda he wrote “Why have you gone to this far off AIDS infested land? Your Pattiamma and I are proud of you, but we do not like it”. Thatha continued to make me feel loved and special right up to the last time I saw him. He wasn’t talking much by this stage, but he smiled and was clearly delighted to see me and my children. One of my last memories is of him pulling me in for a hug whilst we sat together. I am delighted my children were able to meet him and both of them speak about him often. Harrison in particular was in awe of his age; on hearing about his death he said "It’s a bit sad mum, but he was so old his body just couldn't live anymore".