It’s 2:30 a.m., and the silence feels heavier than ever. I keep asking why you had to leave so soon, Adi. Every night, I ache for one more hug, one more “nice,” one more moment that will never return. Some nights, the grief feels endless — like tonight. The world keeps moving, but my heart still waits for you.
“Mamba turned 18 last week—a milestone she once dreamed of celebrating in a big way. But this year was different. With your absence, her priorities changed, and all she wanted was a quiet day. I tried to make it special for her, knowing that’s what you’d have wanted too. Through the cakes, the laughter, the shopping, we kept talking about you. You were there in every moment, just not in the way we wished.”
Just four songs — that’s all Adi wanted, day after day. They played on loop, filling our little apartment with his laughter and happy little dances. Even now, when I hear them, I’m right back there… in those strange, uncertain days, holding on to the love and small joys that kept us going.
“This Rakhi felt so empty without you, Adi. Mamba placed her rakhi at the temple instead of tying it on your wrist, and my heart broke all over again. You were supposed to be here — for her, for us — but now I can only hope you’re watching over your sisters from wherever you are.”
Writing to you keeps me going, Adi. On the good days and the hard ones, these letters are my way of staying close to you. In my dreams, in my heart—you are always there.
It’s been two months since Adi left us, and every corner of our home still whispers his name. His slippers by the door, his toys on the shelf, his empty plate — they all remind us of the love we lost. The pain hasn’t eased, nor has the heartache faded. But amidst the sorrow, there’s gratitude — for the gift of Adi, and the light he brought into our lives.
With trembling hands and a shaky body, I called Sid to tell him about the diagnosis. I was still holding on to a sliver of hope—hoping that maybe a doctor would say it’s not as bad as it seems. Since I couldn’t get an urgent appointment with a well-known pediatric neurologist, I went to see …
My sweetheart, you came into our lives on a beautiful Sunday in 2017. Though we were expecting you a month later, you decided to crash and hijack Mana ba’s 10th birthday. Before you were born, I didn’t know that I could love someone as I loved Mana. But you changed all that. You came and you carved out your space amongst our (Mamma, Deta & Mana ba’s) hearts.