Dad and his Tuesday group, met every Tuesday at the Club come rain or shine. They’d meet at around half past noon, have a couple of drinks, gossip for a bit, talk about old times, have lunch and disperse around 2:30. It was something that dad looked forward to. For a long time he would drive himself but once he got into his 80s, he preferred to take a driver.
Covid brought all that to a halt. The lock down ended these club visits.
Unfortunately Dad didn’t survive the second wave and we lost him. In a way the lock down broke his spirits and he missed his friends and the Tuesday meets. It was ironic that for a man with so many friends, only mom and I saw him off on his final journey.
So over a year down the line, I am at the Club and I run into one of his Tuesday buddies. He greets me like a long lost friend. As we talk he says the group still meets on Tuesday. “We really miss your father” he says, and then adds “we have an empty chair for your father. No one sits there as a mark of respect. We know he’s still there with us”.
People who saw me driving away probably wondered why a grown man was bawling in the car.
Bangalore Blues 
Grown men are humans. They are allowed to cry and should do it more often.