I met him barely 2 months back, at my grandmother's funeral. I had made another broken promise, that next time i came to Bombay, i'd visit surely visit his place. For ghee bhaat and Complan. For old time's sake. He had funny ears, and a funny voice. Me and my brother would still crack up on all the elderly advice he'd give us. I'd imitate him and his funny ways, about things he did and things he said. But he knew me and loved me, from when i was very young. As part of family, he was always there. They're rare now - the people who know you from so long ago, that they don't judge you, just care. So, such loss is significant. Even if you don't miss them when they're alive. You know, in death, they've taken away a little part of you. And left a little part that wishes it could've said, a slightly better good bye.