Dear Friends,
From the earliest days I can remember, I was drawn to the world of electronics and electricals. That fascination didn’t just appear out of nowhere it was because of my dad. He was a whiz in the arts of fixing, creating, and innovating. To me, he was a magician who could make anything work. Whether it was repairing a broken device or constructing something entirely new, his hands worked with a precision and care that left me in awe.
As a child, I would sit next to him in his workshop, mesmerized by the sparks of soldering irons and the quiet hum of tools. His workspace smelled of metal, grease, and the faint heat of machinery an environment that felt more like a wonderland to me. Whenever he was soldering, I’d pester him endlessly, asking, “Can I do it for you, Daddy?” Patient as always, he’d guide my small hands, teaching me how to solder without ever showing frustration.
As the years passed, my interests grew beyond electronics. My teenage years brought a craze for cars. Wiring up vehicles, amplifying sound systems, and crawling underneath cars to get my hands dirty became my passion. My dad was right there with me, not just as a mentor but as my biggest cheerleader.
Then came computers a whole new world. By this time, my dad had started aging, but that didn’t dim his enthusiasm. Instead, he became fascinated by what I was doing. I remember how his eyes lit up when I built my first computer from scratch. “Jacob, you just got those parts and assembled it so fast?” he’d ask in amazement. “Yup, it’s done. You wanna see?” I’d reply. His curiosity was infectious, like a child discovering a new toy.
Even when his health started to decline, he never stopped supporting me. If I had to climb ladders for a site job, he’d insist on coming along, offering moral support from the sidelines. He was the kind of father who cared so deeply, that he couldn’t bear to let me face challenges alone. we would always travel together on bikes and also people would say “You guys are not father and son, you guys are good as friends.”
One day, as he lay bedridden, he saw me getting ready for work. “Where are you going, Jacob?” he asked, his voice frail but full of interest. “I’m going to install high-end CCTV cameras at a historical site,” I said. He looked at me with pride. “How in God’s name did you get a job like that?” he marveled. I smiled and said, “Daddy, God helped me.” Then I’d ask him, “Would you like to come?” Knowing full well he couldn’t, I’d still see his eyes light up as he’d say, “Yes, son, I will come.” I’d leave the room then, tears streaming down my face. I loved him so much it hurt.
The best memory I hold close to is his love for bikes. He owned a Lambretta scooter, which I learned to ride on, followed by a Jawa bike. But his dream bike was always a Royal Enfield Classic. I knew how much it meant to him, so for his birthday on May 30th, 2018, I decided to make his dream come true.
On May 29th, I visited the showroom, selected the bike, and brought it home. When I returned, I teased him, “Daddy, what do you want for your birthday?” In his weak but loving voice, he replied, “Anything, Jacob.” I grinned and said, “Chalo, let’s get your dream bike a Royal Enfield.” His eyes widened with joy as he picked out the color he wanted.
The next day, his birthday, I handed him the bike keys as a surprise. He was lying on his bed, weak but visibly overwhelmed with happiness. He held the keys, kissed them, and whispered, “Thank you.” I showed him a picture of the bike, and his face lit up with the brightest smile. For that brief moment, his joy erased all the pain.
Sadly, just a few days later, on June 15th, 2018, he passed away. That bike became more than just a vehicle; it became a symbol of our shared love and dreams.
Daddy, I miss you every single day. You taught me everything, from fixing wires to navigating life with strength and grace. You were my hero, my mentor, and my biggest supporter. Thank you for the memories, the lessons, and the love. I hope you’re riding your dream bike somewhere in the heavens.
I Love You, Daddy…
Reflection
Life is a journey of endless learning, and the greatest lessons often come from those we hold closest to our hearts. My father taught me that no matter how skilled or accomplished we become, there is always room to grow, to explore, and to embrace curiosity like a child. His unwavering interest in my work, even in his final days, reminded me that learning is not confined by age, health, or circumstance it is a lifelong pursuit that enriches our souls.
In a world that often tries to measure our worth by achievements or opinions, my father also showed me a greater truth: our value is not determined by anyone else. It is something we define for ourselves, through the passions we pursue, the relationships we nurture, and the integrity we carry. The way he cherished his dreams and celebrated mine taught me that we must never let others dictate our worth.
We know our value. It resides in the things we love, the knowledge we gain, and the impact we leave behind. Just as my father believed in me, even when the world felt like it doubted me, I’ve come to understand that the only validation we truly need comes from within.
So, keep learning, keep striving, and never forget that your value is infinite, regardless of what others may say. Live boldly, just as he did, and let your passions be a testament to the light you carry within.
I love you, Daddy, always and forever.
Your Loving Son
Jacob M
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