Sridhar and I became friends through work.  He was doing a security review of my project, and during this time, his youngest was sick.  Being a father myself, I encouraged him to take care of her and not worry about work.  Whatever I said touched him.  When we met in Atlanta to work on the project, he asked if I was raised in the South (I was), and then asked to give me a hug.  That truly began our friendship.

We talked on the phone a few times, and kept in touch via text messages and Slack messages.  We talked life.  We talked death.  We shared our philosophies.  We checked on each other's family.

When my father went in for surgery in May 2020, Sridhar kept us in mind and in his prayers.  When the surgery went bad, he was there for me.  During five long months, he kept me bolstered with his beautiful soul.  And when my father died, Sridhar called and consoled me. 

He was a dear friend whom called me 'brother' and I willingly called him my 'brother,' too.  Since losing my only brother (elder) over a decade ago, I cannot easily call anyone brother.  It is mentally difficult.  My oldest friend, I call brother and that was hard.  Sridhar is my brother, and, as a testament to who he is, I did find it easy to call him that, and I meant it.

I am heart-broken by the loss of Sridhar.  I am sad that I never got to invite him to my home and meet my family.  I so wanted to introduce him to my mother, so that she could meet the stranger that gave so much care towards our family during my father's illness.