My father had a unique way of connecting with us, sometimes through humor, sometimes through sternness. The phrase "Dippaciterbol and Fringadeez" stands out in my memory as a symbol of our bond, stemming from a moment that brought laughter during a trying time.

I remember vividly the first time I realized my dad was more than just a stern figure. He was my hero, despite the grumpy exterior. Growing up, I often felt I didn’t want to turn into him. Yet now, I find myself longing to embody even half of what he was.

One of my earliest memories is from when I was about four or five. My dad took me to dinner at his boss's house. There, I became enamored with a basketball belonging to the host's child. No amount of persuasion from my dad could convince me to give it up, and thankfully, the host’s parents supported my desire to keep it. I can still recall my dad’s long lecture at home, while I sat on that very ball, swaying back and forth.

My dad, who lost his father at a young age, carried the weight of that loss throughout his life. He was raised in a disciplined household, but he also had a lighter side. He adored slapstick comedy and would burst into rare laughter, prompting me to mimic my favorite actor just to see him smile.

Physical displays of affection were not his forte; he preferred to keep things reserved, yet I would shower him with hugs and kisses regardless. There was a gentle, albeit reluctant, smile I could sometimes coax from him amid his grumbles.

My father always dressed impeccably, favoring dress shirts and tailored trousers, never succumbing to the casual wear we begged him to try. He was a devoted son-in-law and cherished my grandmother, spending quality time with her even as she dealt with her health issues, bringing her joy during his visits.

While he was a loving father, he struggled with anger and at times, his words would hurt. I remember a moment when I advised him to apologize to my mother after a fight, only to face his wrath instead.

As I transitioned into my teenage years, he became a strict disciplinarian, pushing me to study hard and take life seriously, while I was focused on my carefree childhood. The corporal punishment he believed in only ceased when I turned eighteen, but by then, I had moved away for my education.

Years passed, and upon returning home, I saw the visible signs of aging and fatigue on my dad. He had transformed from a strict figure to a wise, kind man, ready to offer advice about life. When I finally graduated and chose a path in the creative industry, he hesitantly supported my decision, even if it didn’t align with his expectations.

After retiring and moving back to India, he would often playfully call my name to annoy me, which I brushed off during my busy adolescent life. Little did I know these moments would become precious memories.

Then came the day that changed everything. I was enjoying a typical day when my mom called to inform me that he was feeling unwell. I didn’t think much of it at the time. Yet, when I arrived at the hospital, my heart sank.

Seeing him in the ICU, surrounded by medical staff trying to revive him, was a sight I’ll never forget. I was in disbelief, grappling with the reality that he had suffered a cardiac arrest. My world shattered as I realized he was gone.

The days that followed were a blur as our family tried to cope with the overwhelming loss. My father’s funeral left an emptiness that still lingers. Five years later, I find myself reflecting on our time together, feeling the weight of his absence.

There are days when I merely go through the motions of life, while others leave me feeling lost, yearning to hear his voice once more. The hardest part of losing a father is the silence that follows—the painful realization that he will never respond to my calls again.

I still have his number saved on my phone, and sometimes, I stare at it, wishing it would ring and I could hear him ask about my day, just like before.

"Dippaciterbol and Fringadeez" will always remind me of my dad’s playful spirit, a phrase that emerged from a moment of childhood innocence. I miss him dearly, and I love you, Dad.

Forever.