So yesterday was a fabulous day. My Kaka (sort of complicated this. My uncle lives in the same house as me and we are very close... he is my Grandfather's stepbrother's son) turned 35 yesterday and we went out to celebrate with Dadu and Didun (his parents). My Kakima is heavily pregnant, so she could not go and berated us on the phone as we had fun. We ordered food we could not finish and cold drinks because my uncle's a teetotaler. And in the night I went for a bike ride. Just like old times. We had cold coffee at Gautam's at 12 in the night and we sneaked in because we did not want Dadu-Didun to be upset and awake. But they were, and we sang songs and I was thinking of the numerous times Dadu had had me down from a tank, rescued me from a street fight, or played with my GI Joes, and sang songs together like this. My parents hate them, though. For them, my Dadu-Didun are nonexistent, though they dote on my kaka and kakima.
My Dadu died this morning. He left us in his sleep, a half-smile curved to his lips. And all I could think of was that he was planning a baby shower for my Kakima on Friday. I don't think there will be any now.
Rest in Peace. I love you.