Memories of a man

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These are my memories of a man who was so much more than just my grandfather?


Someone who always had the time to talk, who was there to listen to any and every small thing, no matter how childish it may have seemed
My friend
The man who would never refuse to help anyone, and who would go so far as to suggest someone who could help if he couldn’t do it himself
Grandpa, who was so very proud of all of us
Old and still forever young
Ever-knowing and uniquely vibrant
The man who I’d instantly feel at home with?someone who was not the stereotypical elder but more of a pal
Grandpa, who was so easy to love and respect
The man who was famous for his quick temper, and for being able to cool down just as quickly


And this, Grandpa, is what I’d like to say to you?


There is so much more than what I just put down. Hordes of little memories that get me choked up, especially when I think that 6th July will be six months since you’ve been gone now, and that I will not see you. Not this time when I come to Bombay, not for a long, long time.


You were beyond merely "great"-? you were fantastic.


It is hard to imagine a vacation when you will not be there to talk to. Almost impossible to think that when I come down in a few days, you will not be there with your sharp comments on world issues, your welcome suggestions, your hospitality and love.


I’d always imagined you living forever, at least till I was 45. I’d imagined you being there to witness my little triumphs and to smoothly gloss over my downfalls, to encourage me and support me, to just be yourself and in your own way let me know how much you value me. I’d imagined you walking me down the aisle on my wedding day, even perhaps being there to see my grandchildren. Maybe you will now, from heaven above.


I hope you will watch over me from heaven above. More than that, you will be proud of what I do, of who I become somewhere along the line.


I’d read somewhere, long ago, that death ends a life, but not a relationship.


You were awesome; you don’t need anyone to tell you that.


I miss you.


About the author:


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Of an almost insane obsession with fiction, and the power of the printed word
Of strong vibes of precocious-ness and contradicting easy tears
Of various harebrained plans and sketchy schemes to change the world
Of a desire to see true equality, and to make it happen
Of natural highs from the color pink, and stuffed animals
Of not being able to have too much chocolate
Of silly decisions made on impulse
Of being undeniably, unnecessarily confused at small things
Of a heart that pushes back logic and a mind that favors emotion
Of unexplained silences and sudden outbursts of conversation
Of the quintessential desire for good conversation abiding above all else
Lies the essence of my being

Author: Kimberly Fernandes- Qatar


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