My grand father, or Dadaji as we called him, passed away a few hours ago at the ripe old age of 91. That’s him with Jack back in 2008. It’s hard to articulate how I feel right now. I lived with him till I was 13, and even though my parents were there too, I identified with him much more than with them–probably the reason why I am much more like him than like my father.

Dadaji was the first person in his family to get a college education, even though it meant moving out of his parents house when he was 13 and moving in with relatives far away. He got a Bachelor’s degree on scholarships, and when he finished he got a job in the Agriculture and Co-op Department of Gujarat. He worked there his whole life, raising five children in a one-bedroom rented condo pinching pennies, and ensured that all five of his children earned college degrees.

He was a great man. I don’t think I’ve ever looked up to anyone more. Every belief I hold at the core of my being is one I learned from him. He taught me to never take anything for granted, because what you have today could very easily be gone tomorrow. I am thankful for the happenstance that made me a part of his family. I am thankful for the way the stars aligned that gave me so much time with him. I am thankful that my son got to meet him. I am thankful that he’s in a better place.

Since I can’t articulate it, here’s Pearl Jam. Rest in peace, Dadaji.

A comic inspired by one of Jack’s favorite books, Every Fridayby Dan Yaccarino.