Letter to my Dad on his 15th memorial day

Dearest Daddy, 

I know you're happy and speaking by faith still. In human timelines, it's been 15 years since you left your earthly sojourn.

I know that you still speak by faith though you are dead. Your dreams aren't yet dead. After your death, I felt so bad and even wondered why on earth you went about doing good, caring and sharing with the poor and needy. I even vowed that I wouldn't tiptoe your path cos that would mean that I'd be of no use to my family. Tried buying assets, vehicles and whatever I could afford, but your genes within were waiting like a volcano to erupt and they did. 

You know Dad, my wife and kids too,along with Mom, reach out to the poor and needy like there is no tomorrow. I just try to bury my face in my hanky sobbing uncontrollably thinking about how you'd have loved to see your daughter in law and grand Children sharing and caring for the needy. 

Here on earth, there was a pandemic called COVID19 which brought the world to a standstill and just like we both carried food in the BAJAJ Classic scooter for the poor people 23 years ago, I started carrying food to the poor people and could reach out to about 40,000 people in 5 districts for more than 200 days. Na, I didn't carry sick people on my shoulder like you had done, but I could carry food and medicines to them in the Quarantine zones and the COVID CARE CENTERS. 

Now I know how you weren't able to shrug off that inheritance that your father Mr.Paul Dharmakkan bequeathed to you and though you weren't as rich as him, you were far RICHER IN GOOD WORKS. I know I had failed you by not becoming an IAS officer, but I could find favour in the eyes of Officials across 7 states while helping the workers move back to their home States during the LOCKDOWN. I even named this effort as #GodsFeedingBowl as it never ran dry but keeps reaching out and overflowing until the needy people are satisfied. 

I wish I could introduce you to all my Humanitarian friends who've been encouraging, supporting and standing with me in carrying #GodsFeedingBowl.Just like you had, I have friends who love and stand with me beyond language, religion, gender and caste bias and we're a CLAN OF HUMANITARIANS who #Live2Give and #Dare2Care and #Care2Share. 

I can never forget how your Hindu, Muslim friends had waited in the church to pay you their last respects and wept for you as if they were part of our own family. They were all happy to bless me and Jaffin on our Wedding ceremony and even assured us that you were still with us. Some of your friends are still in touch and they remember you fondly for your Humanitarian deeds of courage and compassion. 

I'm not crying for you anymore Dad, but am nursing a heavy heart whenever I think of sharing something that I want to share with you so badly, only to find that you aren't living in our plane of life anymore. 

The latest input from your friends is that I'm looking exactly like you cos of the new moustache that I started growing in lieu of the French beard that I've had since my college days. Like father like son, so they say, Dad. Kiss me one more time. I miss the pricks of the long and strong hairs from your moustache on my cheeks.

Your ever loving Son 

Jean Walter