The guest who seemed one of our own

ONE afternoon, an elderly gentleman, who was known to our family, paid us a visit. Thanks to his flowing long white beard and neatly tied turban, he bore a striking resemblance to my late father. As I welcomed him, my five-year-old son’s eyes widened in surprise and wonder. He was only one-and-a-half years old when my father passed away, leaving behind a legacy of love and warmth. Since then, he had grown up seeing his grandfather in the framed photograph hanging on our living room wall. That image was his sole connection to the man we continue to miss deeply.

The moment my son laid his eyes on the guest, he froze for a second before his face lit up with pure joy. Without a moment’s hesitation, he ran up to the man and wrapped his tiny arms around him. The visitor, taken aback at first, looked at me with gentle amusement before affectionately patting my son’s back. There was an unspoken understanding between us all — an acknowledgment of the innocent love that had just unfolded before us.

Before I could say anything, my son broke free from the embrace and rushed to his elder sister. “Didi, Dadaji has come back!” he exclaimed. His words, full of belief and happiness, overwhelmed us. My eight-year-old daughter looked at me with teary eyes, as if waiting for me to correct her brother. But in that moment, I found myself unable to break the little heart.

The guest, hearing my son’s words, picked him up in lap. “Beta,” he said with a kind smile, “Dadaji is always with you. In your heart, in your memories and in the love that surrounds this home.” My son didn’t grasp the deep meaning of these words, but he nodded happily, convinced that his grandfather had returned to him.

For the rest of the afternoon, my son clung to the visitor, eager to show him his toys, share his stories and bask in the warmth that he believed had come back from the Waheguru’s realm. The old man played along with both kids, embracing the role my son had unknowingly bestowed upon him.

As our guest left that evening with the promise of coming again, my son waved enthusiastically, his heart content. The innocence of childhood blurred the boundaries between memories and reality. Even though my father was no longer around in person, his presence was deeply felt in our home, in our hearts, and, most profoundly, in the eyes of my little son.

The wonderful experience served as a powerful reminder that love transcends time and space, and even in loss, hope can find a way to blossom in the most unexpected and beautiful ways.