we lost our beloved poppy on the morning of 4/17/25, a day that's hard to believe had really come. nine months ago, when poppy’s health declined and
@meghandhaliwal ,
@dominicbracco and i were visiting him in the hospital (saying what we thought would be our final goodbyes) he laughed in disbelief, telling us the doctors hadn’t expected him to live through the ambulance ride, let alone through the night — a priest even came to read him his last rites, and yet… here he was! somehow stable, eating shitty hospital food, and talking to us. he looked at me and laughed his hearty, contagious poppy laugh and said, “you should write a story about me one day: The Grandpa Who Refuses to Die!" (if it's not already obvious where the dhaliwal fam gets their morbid sense of humor). that was poppy. he could make you laugh in the hardest moments and accepted everything as it came — good and bad.
poppy was so many things. routine and adventurous. stoic and giggly. social and independent. he loved salmon, meditation, and exercise (he still had a daily arm workout in the final year of his life that, when attempted, nearly killed me). he loved riding his motorcycle back in india and later, reliving that thrill on jet skis and inner tubes during family vacations. he loved family vacations.
he taught meg and i how to swim and play badminton and watched us catch lightning bugs on hot summer nights. he listened more than he spoke but when he spoke, he almost always said something interesting, profoundly illuminating, or downright fucking hilarious. you couldn't help but lean in when he opened his mouth.
he was a man with magical properties. we likened him to mr. magoo or mulan's grandmother, blindly crossing a busy street with total confidence in her lucky grasshopper. he was the living embodiment of patience, compassion, and unwavering spiritual faith in the unknown.
we loved him so much and this is such a tough goodbye, but only a temporary one. a lightning bug release with faith in the unknown. The Grandpa Who Refuses To Die. xoxo
