Dear Papa,

There are so many people in the world that are alive but not you.

It is as stark as that.

I was feeding the first mango of the season to Mehr, just as you used to. I teared up.

I was listening to some songs and Mehr asked me to sing some song and I started and then my throat clogged and I choked on it.

Now you live in my memories. They come to me just as my kids do. Randomly and without notice. Sometimes they come running like Mehr or crawling like Dhruv and demand attention. Sometimes I have the luxury of time and sometimes not but that does not stop the onslaught.

Dhruv is One today. There is so much that is that I want to talk about with you. I have these conversations in my head. I forget if they are with me or with you. When it is all in your head it gets difficult to keep that straight.

Am I some of you? Or what I learned from you? Or what I can tie back to our memories together? Is that what immortality is about? Leaving pieces of yourself in people whose lives you touch?

There is very little in my life that I can not trace back to you. It all is mixed up jumbled up into a web together. Messy and tangled but very warm and snug all together.

Love

Me