1 year later…

Just a few hours before my Dad suffered from an unexpected life-ending stroke, he sent the last text message of his life to our extended family group chat towards me, my brother and two cousins: 

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“I’ve learned this the hard way, but Kedar, Dishu, Jalu, and Manthan, this is so true and keep focus on your dream project or whatever you want to achieve in life, you have have the base me and Mukeshbhai created, shine Pujara family name, love you all”

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Just one text, but it does such a good job of encapsulating him as a person. It showed how much he valued having a dream and living life with conviction and passion. He held immense pride in our heritage, culture and our family name, all the while having so much love to give to others. In what ended up being his very last text, he selflessly pushed the kids of the next generation to pursue our dreams and push forward in life. 

And that’s exactly why we have this quote framed in our household. 

Death is inescapable. We all come to this earth one day and we all have to leave. We all know this. Yet, when we lose someone close to us, our brain has a really difficult time processing how someone who was just with you will never be there again.

It’s really hard figuring out how to deal with acceptance, grief and moving forward through life, especially when the individual you lost is someone you loved so dearly. You go through a whirlwind of emotions, including anger he had to leave us, sadness he’ll never get to experience my wedding or play with my kids, relief he’s no longer subject to human suffering, and happy I got to spend as many years with him as I did.

Truly one of the hardest ones for me, was feeling guilty about having fun and enjoying myself. Am I being a bad son by not thinking about him enough? Should I be sad more often, or hold off on doing fun activities like pottery classes or traveling? 

Maybe some of them are genuine feelings, but what especially helped get me through is going back to his last message to me. It reminded me that he would want me to continue pursuing my dreams and pushing forward in my life. He would be disappointed if I slowed down my life in lamenting his loss. Rather, he would be proud if I could celebrate his life and the memories we shared together, all the while pursuing dreams and life goals I have.

I miss him every day, but he’s helped me make peace with it by helping me know what he’d want and I have the freedom to keep pushing forward with his hand on my shoulder.

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The last story I’ll leave you with a very personal story with happened early March 2024. When I was in the hospital early 2023 in India for 2.5 months, I kept a journal of my stories there on a Pages app on my personal MacBook Pro. It helped me record all the emotions I felt in the hospital while my Dad was battling his stroke, fighting to regain consciousness through multiple brain surgeries. It was a scarring experience, but deeply impactful times of my life.

Late February, I somehow could not log on to this laptop. It’s the same password I’ve always used for years, I’m positive about it, with no doubt. I used this laptop nearly every day. Suddenly, I couldn’t log in, and I didn’t have a recovery key passphrase. I chalked it up to just not thinking straight and trying again later. I would try again everyday, and wait for the 15 minutes and try again with any other potential passwords it could be.

When I remembered my entire journal of thoughts and recordings of my day to day life in the hospital was all in there, I became deeply saddened. It’s truly the only real written memory I have of my times there. The last emotions I held in my final times with my Dad.

That very night, I slept very, very sad with my head held low. Tiredly, my eyes finally closed shut.

Then something incredible happened.

There he was, standing in the flesh. Over a patch of luscious green grass, white khakis, dark grey Adidas sweater, thick mustache, growing 5 o’clock shadow, and his wayfarer specs. He had a good healthy weight to him, and looked content with life. We had a deep, lucid conversations with what felt like hours, the content of which I’ll keep private. But he was there, he was truly there.

An aunty later told me, he was the one that changed my password. He wanted me to forget those memories and only hold positive memories with him. Maybe that was the best thing that happened to me, because that conversation with him in my dreams was worth way more than any journal could give me.

Though I’m not religious, every now and then, moments like these really strengthen my belief in spirituality and feeling that there’s something bigger in the universe. Any way, thank you for this life I get to live and I miss you every day big guy. Rest in power pops.