Dadu

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Its almost surreal to lose him...the reason I have resisted writing about my grandfather's death for almost 15 days now, is that I don't believe it. It cannot be true. I have always believed that he is immortal and that has not changed. May be its because I did not see his body burning on the pyre. For me these images are third party narrations and some part of me will always believe that they will remain just that. I don't miss him...its strange. I feel him all around. To say I loved him more than my parents will not be unjust...its the bond that became stronger every year. I thank him for most of the goodness I posses....he embedded the concept of serving others in my mind by merely living everyday and touching lives to turn them for the better. For much of my adult life i have feared one thing more than anything else....to lose him. He was the subtle strength of our family. We have weathered many storms because he was the rock which gave us shelter. I feel detached now that I am writing about him...like I should not be writing about him...because words are not enough an ode. I want to continue with the things he believed in...like taking care of people he most dearly loved and worried about...and by just being a good human being as he would have expected when he walked around many nights with a cranky me in his arms.
I will not miss him....I want to live him and protect the sea of love that is just his.
I just missed oiling his hair this time....or stroking his hand and legs...or listening to his archaic stories...or him patting my back....or him just saying goodbye again....

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