Suraj Prakash Marwaha (1921-2018)

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.