I didn’t know my grandfather’s first name was
Suraj until I was in my 20s. My entire life, he was “Grandpa,” or in more
formal settings “Pita-Ji.” Probably one of the reasons my daughter calls my own
father grandpa.
Sadly this is not be the first funeral for many
of us, nor the last. But for me what’s special about this one, is that I feel
less sad, despite what my tears may soon show.
Unlike so many of those who leave us too soon,
Grandpa’s life ended at the right time, in the right place, with the right
people – many of whom are in this room. He lived across four continents. He
lived to marry his wife and raise their children together. He lived to see
those children become grandparents. He lived for those grandchildren become
parents. He lived through tragedies along the way, but he persevered, because
he was strong. He survived. He lived.
We should all be so fortunate.
My tears are not about feeling sad for my
grandfather, but feeling proud of everything he leaves behind for us. Grandpa
lived as full a life as any of us can hope for. Of course there was hardship
along the way, but there were also many, many shared moments of happiness.
Holidays, trips, vacations, teas, meals bus rides, walks, weddings, and just
small visits. And for much of his journey - especially after he
started this family - Grandpa was surrounded by people he loved dearly, and who
loved him back.
The sorrow we feel is for the void left in the
center of the family he and my grandmother founded. It is now our privilege to carry
on that legacy.
When I was younger, all of my American friends
got money from grandparents’ visits. But my grandparents didn’t live in the US.
They lived in a faraway place called England, with funny accents, and great candy. I
know this, because my grandparents didn’t bring Dollars, Pounds, or Rupees - they brought us British candy. Lion Bars, Smarties, and Polo Mints, which i
still seek out whenever I’m in an Indian grocery store. All of my cousins have
my grandparents to thank for our quite sophisticated sweet tooth.
I remember my first visit to the town of
Wolverhampton, where Grandma and Grandpa lived in the UK. Up the narrow stairs,
past the smells of cooking and incense was a small cubby at the top of the
stairs where I’d sit and read. Across the hall was Grandma and Grandpa’s room,
where my sister, cousins and i would watch reruns of the Mahabharata on TV
until grandma would call us down for tea or home-cooked Punjabi food. It’s
really good when your mom cooks it, but it’s fantastic when your grandmother
makes it. But I think grandpa took special pride and enjoyment from watching
his daughters and son make him the same delicious recipes they learned from
their late mother.
My grandfather would take us for long walks, and
we’d pick up fish and chips, when it was still wrapped in a newspaper. I’d ask
my grandfather - a strict vegetarian - why he could eat fish. He told me that
fish wasn’t meat because it didn’t have legs. I learned that everything was a
choice, and where there’s a will there’s a way – especially for the small
pleasures in life.
As kids, we spent many holidays with our cousins,
aunts and uncles - and my Grandma and Grandpa were always there. They made the
trip. It never mattered that there weren’t enough bedrooms. All you needed was
blankets and pillows on the floor. I learned that things were better with
family. Like today.
There was one summer my cousin and i became
obsessed with playing kids' cards games. We were soon scolded by Grandpa, since
to him, playing cards meant something else. He might have seemed old-fashioned
at the time, but it was what he knew from his experiences. For some reason, that moment stays
with me. It had less to do with any absolute perspectives on what’s right or
wrong, but on how my grandfather held firm positions, which guided him.
Something about his conviction in that moment that has informed how I choose
approach an increasingly grey world.
I’m by no means a religious person. So to watch a
man such as my grandfather hold steadfast to his beliefs, defined for me both
sides of what faith should be.
These stories are not unique. In fact, I need them to not be. I hope every child can have experiences like I had, especially
my own daughter, nieces and nephews.
I tell you these stories, because they’re how I
choose to remember, and think of my Grandpa.
As a new father, I’m continuously in awe of all
the things my parents, aunts and uncles experienced and did for us. English
wasn’t their first language, America was not where they were born, and they
didn’t have the internet.
But what my grandfather did over the course of
his life was even more extraordinary. I’d encourage you to hear those
stories. There are many more that I still don’t know about.
During my adult life, I have had the privilege of
watching the devotion of my grandfather's children: his late son Jawar (Uncle
Joe), his late daughter Vijay, and especially and most recently that of his 2
remaining daughters - my mother Inez and Sunita Auntie. It speaks volumes to the
love you carry in your heart for your father and your family.
As one of the many new parents in our family, I
can only hope to live the kind of life, and set the kind of examples that our
Grandpa did to earn that kind of love and respect from my own daughter. I know
i’m not alone in that sentiment.
Suraj Prakash Marwaha was a good man. He worked
hard. He loved his a wife. He took care of his family. And no matter what the
world threw at him, he was pretty great at those things. And because of that,
he made the world just a little bit better.
Thank you Grandpa.
