This one is for my Glauster chittappa-my mother's youngest sister's husband who passed away Monday morning.

We sometimes have parents who aren't necessarily the ones who gave you life,but people you can consider parents in their love and concern.My chittappa was one such person.Not very talkative-actually not talkative at all-but a very good listener whose tiny gestures would mean much more than a monologue any day.

Nougat-Chittappa introduced me to that-he worked in the Middle East and would bring home very novel stuff-like nougats,cheese in a tin-Kraft- I know now,french perfume-Anais-Anais-I bought it at Macy's and one whiff and I was suddenly seven years old!!My first Kaftan-novel in those days,the first set of Lego blocks-he bought it for my cousin and that was the first time I saw blocks in my life.Hotwheels-they still decorate the living room in Anna Nagar.

Once you are a bit grown up parents(all kinds) assess you to see how you would work as a confidante-I think I passed in Chittappa's book-he would sometimes share his worries and concerns.

The last time I saw him was at the first anniversary of my Periyamma's death.He loved the way my older kid spoke Tamil and wanted to talk more to him.

I spoke to him over a phone a few times after that and that was it.

Living in the US has it's advantages.But one begin's to wonder-is it worth it?To be able to share in one's joys and sorrows-to be there for our parents-the once who had us as well as the ones who mean as much to us-nothing can erase the regret of not having been with them through their last struggles in life,of not being able to see them again.

Chittappa,Rest In Peace.

I will miss you.