My Daddy. He was my pillar of strength, my safety net, my confidant - someone I took for granted my entire life.
My earliest memories are of sitting in his lap, swinging in his veshti, sitting on him in the balcony after dinner, climbing into my parents bed every night because I couldn't sleep otherwise. My fondest memories are of our annual summer vacation - we would go every year to visit family in Tindivanam, Madurai or Bombay. He made sure that even though we were far away in Delhi that we never lost touch with anyone in the family. We always had guests at home - he had so many friends and he loved to host.
There was nothing I asked for that I didn't get - birthday parties, pocket money, clothes, pizzas, video games, credit card and a car in college, even a name change! He made sure I had everything always even my craziest ask - never said no, never made me feel bad about anything. I remember him blow-drying my hair when I hated my haircut, dropping me to school every single day in car till college, helping me every day with my English homework because I couldn't write!
Some might say he spoilt me - but it was because of that unconditional support that I felt I always had to make him proud. But I never told him that. I never told him I did engineering because he mentioned it in passing as something a boy would have done and I knew he wanted a son. He thought it was my idea - it wasn't. I wanted to come first in my class so he would proudly tell others about it. But I never told him that everything I am today is because of what my parents said and did.
For my children he was their most favorite person in the entire world. He was an ideal grandfather - pampered them, played with them, bought them treats every day, had the patience to take them on meaningless subway train rides all day because they wanted to. Everything my kids did walk/talk/write was more special because I could share it with my parents and they would be so proud. I could complain to him for hours and he would listen. My kids stayed stuck to Thatha the entire time he would be in NY and cried and wailed when he would leave for the airport. I'd give him a half hug even though I felt exactly like my kids and I didn't tell him.
Now he is gone forever, at 71! The fittest person I knew just like that in his sleep. I feel like a part of me has been ripped out and yet everyone wants me to stay strong and carry on. I want to cry and wail like my kids did when he left for the airport. I've lost my sense of purpose. But then in my sleepless nights I think, I have to keep him alive in my heart by thinking and doing what he would have done. He would have told me to look after my kids, patiently without losing my cool. To take care of my mother. To be more social with my family. To do something, a little everyday, don't keep thinking about the same thing. I can almost hear his voice and the pat on my back. After all there have been so many tantrums and meltdowns he has gotten me out of in these 40 years. I still have my mom who can read this and know the unspoken feelings. He could not stand to lose people close to him or see them suffer so maybe he wanted to exit early. Maybe this was his wish to stay the strong pillar of strength in our memories, without a single day of sickness and no hospital visits.
I was not a religious person but now I feel like my dad will take that place as someone I think of before doing anything important, make sure my kids pray to him, think of what he would do and say and do what would make my Daddy proud.
