I think about lineage this time every year

A sharp dressed family

A sharp dressed family

It’s been 15 years to the day since my father died. His father (far left above) outlived him by a few years; Dadiji, his mother (second from the left), by nearly a decade.

Mom (holding me), Anna (held by Dad) and I continue our lives, but everything changed. His death was a timeline break for us all.

Miss you, Dad. And your dapper suits.

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Miss you, dad

I, too, was a kishmish

I, too, was a kishmish

Dear dad:

I am still sad that you’ve missed a lot of recent years. At least you were still there for so many of the early ones.

Remembering you at Father’s Day.

By the way, I just heard the story “about the time you fell off the donkey.” Sam Uncle likes that one. Nice to know you did stupid things, too, when you were 11.

Also, that’s a pretty soul patch.

Love,

Adam

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Miss you, pops

Those are some hiking shorts...

Those are some hiking shorts…

It’s been thirteen years today since Dad died. Can remember that day vividly.

Pain has faded, and, wow, how much has changed. Life has, despite the loss, turned out quite grand. Just wish he could share it now.

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Miss you, Dad

I must have been six or seven

I must have been six or seven

That’s my plastic dinosaur toy on his desk. His construction paper badge says, “Super Dad.”

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Miss you, Dad

Summer glacier is probably gone, too

Summer glacier is probably gone, too

Fourteen years ago today my father died in a car accident. Life has nonetheless been good to me; just wish I could share it with him.

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An old family photo, and an older family photo

My lineage, as far back as we have photos

My Indian lineage, as far back as we have photos

Five-and-a-half years ago, I took this photo of two photos. The mini-collage hung on the wall in my grandparents’ flat in Nigdi, Pune.

I had taken a semester off from school a second time to go back to India, for three weeks with Mom and Sis and an additional eight on my own. Much of that trip was spent wrestling with my father’s death a little more than a year before.

At the bottom of the cut-out photo, that’s a 10-year-old me, with Dad right above. And directly above 42-year-old him, in the black-and-white still, the boy with the hesitant look, that’s Dad again, also about age 10, with his parents, six brothers, one sister and a sister-in-law.

He died seven years ago today.

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