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A note to Dadu

I wrote a poem for you dadu. I so wish you were here today so I could read it out to you.

Some grandpas have ears that listen,
arms that always hold,
love that’s never ending
and a heart that’s made of gold!
My grandpa was just like that.

Some grandpas have the wisdom
of a live that’s well-lived,
long experience to teach us
and love only he could give!
My grandpa was just like that.

Some grandpas are unafraid
of big dogs and thunderstorms,
stand like a towering shelter,
no matter what comes along.
My grandfather was just like that.

Some grandpas are a lodestar
they shine and show the light,
to face each rough encounter,
and through every dounbtful night.
My grandfather was just like that.

I have beautiful memories of my childhood days with my grandfather, and they are so many of them. He was a brilliant doctor, a great humanitarian, blessed with a very sharp intellect, the best handwriting in Bengali and English, and was a very learned scholar who loved books, who loved to write even from his hospital bed in his last days. I loved his great collection of books, and admired the way he quietly worked at his beautifully designed garden (yes, he had green fingers!).

But, most of all, grandpa had a heart that was made of pure gold, who put his profession and his ideals before his own well-being, or his family. He was and will always remain the tallest man I ever will know. Everyone who knew him will vouch for every word of what I say here. I might even have missed a few things about him here!!

My grandfather whom I fondly called dadu left us this day 24 years ago and I was by his bedside, watching him slip away slowly. He was in a lot of pain and it was a deliverance for him finally.
But I have chosen to remember him in countless ways, in ways and things that tell me he is still close to us always.

Miss you dadu!

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