What came first - the memory or the photo? I don't know.
This is about my oldest memory of my dad, "Bu". I was a year younger than Evan is now. I remember walking down the hill on Sunday mornings and then across the train tracks holding my dad's hand to the edge of the lake. My dad bought fish from the fishermen as they pulled their boats ashore with fresh catch. Alu and I threw an old cricket ball for Raja and he would jump into the lake and swim back. Mausma Begum's rambling old house that we rented was the only house on the hill. The waters of Hussain Sagar were crystal clear. My dad was big and strong. Good times.
When he died a year ago, for a while my memories of my dad were the most recent ones. Like Vivian and Evan, I had trouble imagining or remembering a time when he was younger. Vivian and Evan often speak of their Grandpa. They talk of him being dead and of his favorite cookies with the same lightness of being. I am trying to learn from them. Life is short. Death is certain. So enjoy your favorite cookies and your loved ones. Or something like that.
Bu - you were a good dad. I am grateful for that, specially as I grapple with fatherhood myself. But I am also very thankful for how you lived the last year of your life with us. I still hear "Rontuuu" echoing through the house. Or wait - that's Vivian pretending to be you. Good times.
This is about my oldest memory of my dad, "Bu". I was a year younger than Evan is now. I remember walking down the hill on Sunday mornings and then across the train tracks holding my dad's hand to the edge of the lake. My dad bought fish from the fishermen as they pulled their boats ashore with fresh catch. Alu and I threw an old cricket ball for Raja and he would jump into the lake and swim back. Mausma Begum's rambling old house that we rented was the only house on the hill. The waters of Hussain Sagar were crystal clear. My dad was big and strong. Good times.
When he died a year ago, for a while my memories of my dad were the most recent ones. Like Vivian and Evan, I had trouble imagining or remembering a time when he was younger. Vivian and Evan often speak of their Grandpa. They talk of him being dead and of his favorite cookies with the same lightness of being. I am trying to learn from them. Life is short. Death is certain. So enjoy your favorite cookies and your loved ones. Or something like that.
Bu - you were a good dad. I am grateful for that, specially as I grapple with fatherhood myself. But I am also very thankful for how you lived the last year of your life with us. I still hear "Rontuuu" echoing through the house. Or wait - that's Vivian pretending to be you. Good times.
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