Dear Nana Papa (my maternal grandfather),
As a child, I often envied the girls around me who were their grandfathers' little princesses. Where was my jolly old grandpa who would tell me stories about “back in his day” and sneak me candy even though I had cavities? I immediately felt guilty thinking this because your wife, our dearest Ammi, crossed hemispheres after your passing to be with us, raise us and pamper us. I was never ungrateful for her, but I still missed you. I never thought it was possible to miss something I have never had, but I was wrong.
My brother and I page through photo albums of you and our family in Hyderabad and try to determine which of our cousins, your grandchildren, resembles you the most. I listen, with the same level of enthusiasm and suspense, to the same story of you discovering Mummy at a movie theater when you thought she was studying.
Ammi still reads an entire Qur'an for the anniversary of your passing. Whenever accomplishment or success decorates our family, a hint of remorse reflects in the expressions of my aunts and uncles that you are not here to see us shine.
You are a Leonardo DiCaprio to us. You are a celebrity to your grandchildren—we know so much about you, your work, your accomplishments, your personality traits. We yearn deeply to meet you, but we never will.
Your absence is compensated by the presence of Ammi, the beacon of shining light in all our lives. However, I often wonder how different our lives would be with you here. As a retired radiologist, maybe you would have sat me on your knee and taught me the names of the bones in my body. Perhaps, you would have grumbled that we kids have become too "westernized."
You would have wiped a tear from your eye when your grandchildren returned home with high school diplomas, bachelor’s and master’s degrees. You definitely would have scolded me for dropping pre-med. Above all, I am certain that your love and support would have extended itself unconditionally to each and every member of our family.
I am happy that destiny had in store for you to impact the lives of the family members who came before me. The lessons you taught Mummy and all my aunts and uncles have trickled down our family tree—your wisdom, methods of discipline and loving nature. Just as much as our family has learned from your presence, they have learned from your absence. Your passing has encouraged the women of our family to strengthen themselves, travel across the globe to foreign territories, pursue their careers, marry, and start families, all while remaining grounded in their principles. You carried the torch that lit the journey into the field of science for the rest of your family members to follow. I, myself, try to honor your memory in my pursuit of knowledge, value of education, and adherence to cultural and religious traditions. You have left your impression on this world, and it is up to us to honor your deeds and perpetuate your legacy.
By the way, thank you for naming me. It takes most people a few tries to learn how to pronounce it properly, and it almost always autocorrects in emails—however, learning at a young age that it was your desire to name one of your granddaughters “Sanobar” established this connection I felt with you despite never having met you. I would have loved to hear you say my name.
Love,
Your youngest granddaughter
