Stanley Vishwa Mitra Lachmansingh

He was the husband of Loretta and father of Lawrence, René, Alaric, and Dylan. Born on August 6, 1942 in Corentyne, Guyana to the late Joshua Ramjeet Lachmansingh and Marjorie Armoogan Lachmansingh, Stanley, the youngest of seven (Ione, Irma, and the late Joyce, Aileen, Olive, and David), was a chemical engineer by trade and a skilled painter, photographer, home cook, and musician to loved ones. After graduating from the University of the West Indies, Stanley worked for Guymine, Glass Factory, Guyana Refrigerators Limited, and Demerara Distillers Limited, later becoming a physics Lab Instructor at Montgomery College in Germantown, Maryland.

Stanley was also a movie aficionado, an exercise buff, and a traveler of four continents, adventures he shared with his wife. He was a culinary whiz, with a variety of signature dishes, including Chicken Parmesan and Eddoe Pork.

Nicknamed the “Maestro” for his command of the classical guitar, Stanley’s musical legacy persists in his children and grandchildren. His unwavering kindness, optimism, and love for his wife, children, daughters-in-law (Debbie, Shianne), and grandchildren (Jonathan, Hanan, Liam, Leah, Rachel, Sarah, Rebecca, Adriel, and Keeran) will forever be remembered.

Listen to Stanley’s music on his YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/@stanleylachman880'.

A visitation will be held at St. Rose of Lima Catholic Parish, 11701 Clopper Rd., Gaithersburg, MD on Monday, March 16, 2026 from 10 a.m. to 11 a.m. with a Mass of Christian Burial at 11 a.m. A repast will immediately follow in the Parish Centre Woodlands Room at St. Rose from 12 p.m. to 2 p.m. Interment will be held privately.

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Good morning. My name is Lawrence Lachmansingh, eldest son of Stanley.

My role today is to speak less about Dad’s history and more about his life’s journey. For those who would like to be reminded or informed about the facts of Dad’s life – where he was born, who were his parents, his children, grandchildren, where he worked and so on - that information is on Dad’s tribute card.

Like all of us, Dad had his imperfections. Not many, but some. These sins were forgiven by Fr. Mateo at least three times when he visited Dad at home and administered the last rites.

Mommy told us she asked Dad if he had any regrets in life, and with that classic cheeky smile of his he said, “all of my sins have been forgiven”, hand movements and all.

If you check the tributes on Dad’s obituary page online, you will see a lot of messages from folks he worked with in the bauxite, rum, and other technical industries, and also Montgomery College just around the corner.

Despite all his years of work, you would be forgiven for not always remembering that he was a chemical engineer. Why is that?

Firstly, Dad was an amazing cook. We loved his Chinese dishes, although his cook-up rice and curries were also excellent. He and Mom did this gender reversal thing where he would cook and she would manage the household budget, for example. They were ahead of their time.

Secondly, Dad was an outstanding guitarist and musician. He inspired us in the family to connect with larger realities, such as love and justice, through music. As I prepared this remembrance it struck me, for the first time, that all of Dad’s favourite songs are soulful, thoughtful, provocative songs – such as “where have all the flowers gone.”

We are all exceptionally fortunate that Dad was able to record multiple “albums” and leave them for us on Youtube. The link is on the tribute card but if you lose it, just google “Stanley Lachman the bandit” and you’ll find his albums online. In case you missed it, his last album was uploaded just 2 months ago and features Indian instrumental oldies.

So Dad was a great cook and musician. But, thirdly, Dad was also a painter. His paintings all carried the same scene – the Corentyne “backdam” view of canals, coconut trees, a dirt road, and a small shingle house. I asked him why this scene was so dominant in his art. He said it was a childhood picture in his mind from number 19 road. Like a good addiction, I think he kept trying to replicate the original “high” created by that childhood memory through his paintings. You can see some of these paintings via his YouTube albums.

I should also mention that Dad had a hilarious sense of humour. He tickled us with jokes about “stone soup”, “too much blood in my alcohol stream”, and “being under the affluence of incohol.” We can swap more of these jokes and stories at the Repast.

So, to summarise, Dad was a culinary, artistic, musical joker, who happened to be a chemical engineer.

I’ve come to realise there is a thread across these multiple dimensions, one thing that Dad was trying to do for everyone he met, and particularly for Mom and my brothers. He wanted us to be happy. He wanted to bring joy into our lives, whether through his food, his paintings, his music, or his jokes. He wanted to make a difference, however small, for family, friends, and even strangers.

I got a call after he died, from a physiotherapist who only met Dad once. She had told Dad about a song she remembered growing up, but which she hadn’t heard since. Dad found the song and sent it to her. She was so happy. He didn’t have to do that, or maybe he did.

Just last week, Rene shared with us the meaning of Dad’s middle names. Vishwa Mitra means “friend of the world” or “friend of all.”

It all makes better sense now. He wanted to be everyone’s friend. Everyone.

Consistent to the end, Dad asked for his repast to have loud food. Another opportunity to make us all happy. But even after the food is gone, he will continue making us happy through Youtube, his paintings and his jokes.

Since he died, our family has been overwhelmed by expressions of sorrow, sympathy, and solidarity. On behalf of Mom, my brothers, and our spouses and children, thank you for your kind thoughts, words and actions, and for joining us today as we celebrate a life so very well lived.

Remembrance by Lawrence Lachmansingh

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Thank you sincerely for being here. I want you all to take a look around the room. This alone is a monumental testament to the man we are here to honour today. Thank you for coming.

My name is Jonathan. I am Stanley’s eldest grandchild and the son of Rene. Just look for the dude that looks like Loretta. You can’t miss him.

I started writing the notes you are about to hear 3 years ago when we first found out Stanley was in decline. Not because I thought I would have the honour of speaking up here today, but rather a way to begin processing what we knew was inevitable, to put on paper what Stanley means to me, his family, his friends, and the world. How do you even execute a task like this?

My grandfather was a titan. He braved wilds, supported his family through heavy trials, battled demons, and cultivated a library of knowledge that has bewildered me since I was a child.

From his stories this man LIVED a life well lived. He was the tide that raised all ships. It would be remiss to pretend like this ocean isn’t hushed without his waves today.

However, in keeping with Stanley’s tradition he would probably wave that all off and say “naahhhh man the ocean is fine” and tell us we’re being daft.

I learned that word from him btw, daft. Still one of the greatest things I’ve ever learned in my 30 years. He was too funny.

But even on his deathbed he still carried that “everything is fine! don’t worry about me! I got this!” energy. He never wanted anyone to feel like he was fading. A soldier till the end.

Point being, not only was he a brainiac and comedian, but he was also one of the strongest creatives I ever got to witness. He held philosophy’s two major stones - science and the arts. A da Vinci in his own rite.

Thanks to ADHD I only have 5 core memories to date. Two of them belong to the legacy of our Stanley.

The first one was at Montgomery College. He brought us to his classrooms and office after hours. The hallways were dead. The lights were fluorescent. My brother Liam and I sat at the long horizontal lecture desks and Stanley brought out a SPREADDDD of gadgets for us to tinker with. Deconstructed computer towers. Skeletons of powered car models. Cables. So many things to plug and unplug. Then there was the oscilloscope. the blue screen and all these tiny knobs that changed the shape of the frequency lines.

Burned into my memory. I used to question why my brain chose that image, of ALLLLL the things it could have retained? Now I thank that little ball of jello in my skull because it has become a representation of Stanley. He was a positive frequency. I learned so much about them from him. My favourite one? 432Hz - also known as The Miracle Tone. That’s what Stanley was to all of us - a miracle, forever cemented in the memory of that blue screened machine with all the tiny knobs.

The second memory is a watercolour painting of a forest with a cabin that hung inside his trailside home. Beautiful soft blue skies and fiery bursts of red. I was sitting at the dining table while he did it, explaining each step and technique as he went along. But this isn’t the memory. It was when he turned the still-wet painting around to me and my eyes darted towards this blue sky forming in real time.

He explained that when you apply water to the blank area FIRST, followed by the blue paint then tilt it around you get a beautiful smooth gradient “also called a graduated wash”, he said, as he slowly tilted the paper, completely unphased by the fact that he just blew a 9 year old’s mind with a personal Bob Ross painting lesson. Truly the greatest blue blend I have ever seen.

Actually, as I’m saying all of this I now realize why blue is my favourite colour.

If you are wondering why I’m explaining everything in such detail, that’s because it’s how Stanley did things. Always thorough. Never missing a beat or step. He raised my father and uncles with that and I was raised by that village. His impact was generational. Stanley was unparalleled in that way.

I do have to admit, though, to spreading misinformation about him this whole time. When I tell people about my grandfather, the first thing I would ask is,

“Do you know the El Dorado rum? Yea well my grandpa designed and drew the ship they print on the front label! He was also single-handedly responsible for bringing PEPSI - I repeat, PEPSI - to guyana!”

To this day I have no clue how or WHY these two things became “facts” about Stanley. But the funny thing? Although I bent those “facts” waaayyyy out of shape, these just seemed like legitimate things Stanley would’ve accomplished. His paintings, his music, his songwriting, his scientific mind, his energy and candor: these were enough to convince anyone about Stanley’s abilities. I probably could have said he worked on the shuttle that sent Neil Armstrong to the moon and people would have believed me. He had that GUMPTION… and ABILITY… it was unquestionable to those who knew him well, and even to those who didn’t fully know him.

On behalf of the Lachmansinghs and Stanley, I want to thank everyone for being here today. I tried to paint the painter on behalf of all of us. I hope I hit the mark. I wish for nothing more than to ask him if we all executed his portrait well. I know he’s watching down on us, but it really sucks that we have to wait till we meet again someday to ask him what he thought. And he’ll be doing that funny half-laugh he always did. You know the one where his body was laughing more than his vocals.

As we look to the cosmos and reflect on Stanley’s life, please bow your head and have a moment for our beloved scientist and artist. I want you to really feel the essence of Stanley’s life in this room with us. Please lower your heads, close your eyes, breathe slow and focus on these words. This is a quoted passage…

“…the atoms that comprise life on earth, the atoms that make up the human body, are traceable to the crucibles that cooked light elements into heavy elements in their core under extreme temperatures and pressures. These high mass STARS

went unstable in their later years. They collapsed and then exploded, SCATTERING their enriched guts across the galaxy. Guts made of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen. and all the fundamental ingredients of life itself. these ingredients become part of gas clouds that condense, collapse, forming the next generation of solar systems. stars with orbiting planets. And those planets now have the ingredients for life itself.

So, when I look up at the night sky, and I know that yes, we are part of this universe…we are in this universe, but perhaps more important than both of those facts - is that the universe is in us. My atoms came from those stars. There’s a level of connectivity. That’s really what you want in life. You want to feel connected. you want to feel relevant. You want to feel like a participant in the goings-on of activities and events around you. That’s precisely what we are… just by being alive.”

You can all look up now…

Stanley was someone who connected all of us, gave us purpose, and made us FEEL the universe that resides within us. We honour his memory as it comes full circle, from stardust to flesh and from flesh back to his rightful place amongst the stars. Ashes…to ashes…

There is a line from one of Stanley’s favourite songs that I remember we all sang together at Trailside, at the last “gathering of the clan”, as my grandmother Loretta classified it. The song goes…

“Country roads, take me home, to the place… where I belong.”

That was always one of his classic songs. Without a doubt those roads lead to the brightest of heavens for my grandfather. No other road has been more fitting than the one he walked on: to the place…where he now belongs.

Rest in peace, gramps. You’re in eternity’s good hands now.

TRIBUTE BY JONATHAN LACHMANSINGH