Happy Birthday, my sonny boy. My Adi. It’s 10th September 2026. You would have turned 9 today. I would have baked another cake for you, and it would have been a beautiful day for us. But instead, we spent the day watching your old videos. Videos of you as a baby, creating mischief. Videos of …
Last month, Deta and I visited Tirupati for the first time after you left us. Every corner of the temple brought back memories of you — from your mundan ceremony as a baby to the questions and grief I still carry in my heart.
For a few hours, you were right there with me — holding my hand, laughing, alive.
And then morning came… and I had to lose you all over again.
While making fried poha one evening, memories of Adi came flooding back — reminding me how deeply everyday moments still carry his presence.
This birthday was filled with love, surprises, and thoughtful gestures — yet beneath it all, I carried the quiet ache of missing Adi.
Some moments quietly remind you how temporary everything is. That day by the river, every thought led me back to Adi.
Today marks one year since Adi left us. The memories are still fresh, the questions still linger, and the ache hasn’t softened the way I once hoped it would.
Last Shivratri came just days after I lost Adi. This year, the memories returned just as strongly — prayer and grief intertwined.
Grief is deeply personal. Not everyone knows how to sit with it, and not everyone will try. This year taught me to stop expecting understanding — and to walk my journey in my own way.
This Feb 18th, it will be a year since Adi left us. I thought the pain might ease with time, but it hasn’t. Some mornings, I still wake up hearing his voice — and then I remember.