Dear Dada,
I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you at the very end but I am so so glad you had a comfortable and peaceful parting. You deserve nothing less.
I said so much to you over the last few years, and yet it seems like we never have enough time to say the things we need to say. So here are some of the things I never got to say to you.
Your garden was immaculate. If you could show me around your garden one more time I promise I wouldn’t complain about the heat and the mosquitos, and I would help water the plants with genuine excitement this time.
I’m sorry I never read most of the books you insisted I read. I’m sure they were incredible, the covers looked great. I wish I had another chance to talk to you about them for hours.
When you shared your wisdom with me I listened intently, not just out of respect for you, not just because you liked having a listener, but because you lived the most full 90 years a person could have. I hope I one day carry half the wisdom you do.
And you had the smoothest voice. Sometimes I listened because your voice contained such depth and weight.
You always took way too long taking photos, and my cheeks would get sore from smiling. And I never liked looking through the hundreds of photos after a trip. Yet now I cherish those memories with you nonetheless.
When I would hear that you were coming to town I was elated. Something about having you and Dadi around was so comforting. You made every place feel like home.
Visiting you every summer was the greatest three week escape from the drudgery of elementary school. I’m sad I never got to go back to Tweetsie Railroad or Grandfather Mountain or Rehoboth beach with you again.
Your smile lit up the room. It’s going to be hard to imagine a family gathering without your warmth. But the family will always and forever be shaped like Mr. Dev.
You must be so proud of Alka and Sanjeev, they were the best children you could have asked for. You must be so grateful for Usha, who gave you the most full life.
Thank you for everything.