India, Dec. 19 -- I lost my father a few months ago. His absence created a silence that was almost unbearable, a gap that no words, rituals, or reasoning could fill. Grief is universal, yet when it strikes, it feels piercingly personal. One imagines one is prepared to lose a parent, particularly when illness has taken its toll, but the final goodbye leaves one stunned all the same. In those first days, I expected to be consumed by solitary grief, a mourning that was mine alone to carry. Yet in the days that followed, something surprising happened. Alongside the sorrow, I began to witness the quiet, steady power of human connection. Calls, messages, visits, and even prayers poured in, wrapping my family in a comfort I could never have imagined. The support did not arrive in dramatic declarations or elaborate speeches. It came in small but deeply meaningful ways. Friends who had drifted away over the years sent messages like, "We are with you." Neighbours came to sit silently beside us. Relatives in distant cities and countries reached out across time zones. Each gesture felt like a lantern in the darkness, guiding us along a difficult path. In our culture, parents are revered and their passing is not merely the loss of a loved one but the disappearance of a guiding force, a cosmic emptiness. Yet, amid that silence, the voices and hands of others lifted us. During the mourning period, when by tradition the kitchen could not be lit, friends arrived with meals. They did not ask if we were hungry; they simply urged us to eat. Their presence was a living reminder that grief is shared as a community, not carried alone. People who had known my father long before I was born called and visited, sharing stories I had never heard, showing how many lives he had quietly touched. Even acquaintances, neighbours or those who had only seen my father from a distance came to offer condolences and silent support. What moved me most was knowing that everyone who reached out did so while managing their own challenges - jobs, families, worries we may never know. Taking a few minutes from their day may seem small, but in grief, it feels immense. It showed me the difference between sympathy and empathy. Sympathy watches from a distance and says, "Sorry for the loss." Empathy sits beside and says, "I'm here." While the world carries on in its usual rhythm, one finds oneself replaying past moments in the mind. Yet, even in that loneliness, people step in gently to remind that one is not alone. Human connection around is a balm for the deepest wounds. I've learnt life is fragile, but the bonds we build are lasting. They are the safety nets that hold us when everything else gives way. Every friend, family member, colleague, acquaintance, and even stranger who reaches out during difficult times becomes a part of that net. For that, we should always be grateful....