The last Photograph.

Daddu was more important to me than any other man in my life. It still breaks my heart to use the past tense when talking about him. I struggle with my words because Daddu’s impact on my life is something I carry with me every day.

We lost Daddu on Dec 9th, and even though I’m far from home, life hasn’t been the same since. That’s the thing about grandparents—they don’t expect much from you, just that you stay close. Even though I’ve been living away from home for a while, I always felt the need to see Daddu first when I visited, no matter how late it was. His hugs were always warm, and in a world where men often shy away from showing affection, Daddu never missed a chance to embrace me fully.

He loved getting his photos clicked, which I’m grateful for now because those pictures are all we have left. Daddu wasn’t the kind of man to give up easily; he fought on the battlefield and in life, earning everyone’s respect. I remember how he cried tears of joy when I did well in my 10th-grade exams. After he passed, I found my old book tucked away in his cupboard. He was the only one who kept it, a small but powerful reminder of how much he cared.

When I left for my first job, a part of me wanted to hug him one more time, but I didn’t. That was the last time I saw him. I’m glad he got to see me standing on my own two feet. There are some regrets—there always will be—but I know he’s watching over me, probably feeling proud.

As a man, I mourn his loss in a different way. I miss hearing him say, "Jeete raho, Khush raho, Dada ka naam roshan karo." Home will never be the same without him. Life can be harsh, but that’s just how it is. So, keep your grandparents close. Talk to them, hug them, because one day you’ll wish you could do it again, but you won’t be able to.