05/25/2025
Copied from Ajit Sivaram on LinkedIn
While standing next to my father’s coffin, I realised something that changed my life.
The math of grief is brutally simple - only three people would feel his absence like a phantom limb: my mother, my brother, and me.
For everyone else, he was a collection of pleasant adjectives.
A good colleague.
A helpful neighbor.
A kind friend.
But for us?
He was the first person I would call when I had a problem. The naughty grand dad who would sneak his grandkids snacks that we never approved of. The one who spent hours working on our charity's accounts pro bono. The patient grandparent who would spend endless hours FaceTiming my 5 year old daughter cause she was ‘bored’. He was the background music of our ordinary days. Now playing on eternal silence.
And then it hit me like a hammer to the chest.
The people who will mourn me most deeply - my wife Tanya and our two daughters - are getting the worst version of me daily. They get Ajit-after-emails. Ajit-with-no-patience. Ajit who says "not now" more than "yes, let's go."
Everyone else gets Performance Ajit. Charming Ajit. Ajit who makes time for coffee meetings but not for bedtime stories. Ajit who responds to LinkedIn messages faster than to his daughter's questions.
I've been giving my leftovers to those who deserve my best.
We distribute ourselves backward. We offer our prime energy to those who will forget us within weeks. We save our exhaustion for those who will grieve us for decades.
What a strange arithmetic of attention.
The irony cuts deep - we hustle to provide security for our families while becoming strangers to them in the process. We chase a better life while missing the only life we have.
That day, standing before what remains when all emails are forgotten, I made a decision.
The world can have what's left of me. My family gets what's best of me.
Because no promotion will hold your hand when you die. No client will remember your birthday when you're gone. No email will miss the sound of your laughter.
Only those who know the rhythm of your heart will truly notice when it stops beating.
