I read and re-read these immensely moving letters from a loving father to his son and think back of my own Dad who passed away a few years ago. With tear filled eyes, I recount all those vivid memories of how he would patiently wait every morning for his son to call from London or Trivandrum or wherever, of how he would accompany me on my rounds of the parade ground each evening when I was preparing for the civil services…there is always this regret, I wish I had taken time off to spend all his last few months with him. We knew he was going but could do nothing about it! Arriving very late at night as they waited up for me to bid farewell to Dad…and then it was all over. In some ways, the chance discovery of this blog reassures me – I’m not alone in sensing the constant presence of our loved ones even after they are gone. They are always with us, watching over us, smiling, laughing, helping us get back up. As I teach my two year old to hold the bat and aim for the ball and as he clambers on to me when I return home every evening, I’m sure my Dad is joyously watching his grandson grow up. From father to son and grandson – it goes on. I learn an important lesson from the writings on this blog, of a father-son companionship that is exemplary and inspires us to be always there for our children, to hold their hands and to cherish each and every precious moment of our time together. All else is secondary.