Me ThInKs

ON GRANDPA

I never thought my mom's father would feature in a blog post like this. Then again, like all hopeless realists, I took it for granted that he would be there forever and never die. Reality, who loves hitting me full blow in the face, slapped me hard- my grandpa died on Jan 11, 2009. And I had spoken to him just a day before. Although his speech slurred, his never say die attitude shone through- "I am fit and fine. and they arent letting me leave the hospital. I want to go home'. In the end, he did, except that home was now in the sky.

I didnt want to go for the funeral, and yet I did. I recommend going to funerals. Reality shakes you up well and good when you see a dead body, and that I believe is the first step to getting over the loss. Also, you realise all the good things that you still have. Thirdly, when you see the number of people who turn up to mourn a good man, it makes you want to lead a good life too.

I wasnt actually close to my grandpa, in the sense I didnt go running to tell him all about each event in my life, but he is the one grandparent who I have been around the longest. We had our moments together- like him picking me up from school and both of us having lunch together; being gifted a children's bible story book as a prize for a speech contest, my piggy banks were gifts from him, he always generously donated in coins and later cash, he gifted me a stuffed scottish terrier, I ended up watching cricket matches with him even thought I didnt really want to, I loved to see him potter around with his car, his table was always full of little knick knacks, he always remembered I loved chicken and food on the whole, he wore the few shirts and t shirts I gave him with utmost pride, and he always sounded so cheerful on the phone even when he didnt feel like it. I miss hearing his liners like- "you clot." "I am fit. Why whats wrong with me. You want me to drive the car and show you?" 'Walk straight. Chin out'. "Hi sanu. How are you, thanks for calling'.

Sometimes, you are closer to people than you are aware. I think the same is true of Big daddy and me. He was a short man, just 5 feet something tall, but he was a big man in every way- love wise, generousity wise, kindness wise and he had a big heart. He is more deeply embedded in my memory than even I know which is why I broke down while saying my tribute to him at the funeral. The little bad man, waving at me and giving me a hug that only his little frail body could give. Thats the way I am always going to remember him. Love you Bigdaddy.