Hemant Patel

In Memory of My Dad;🪽

The first memory I have of my dad is from when he got his dream job. We were playing tag when his phone rang. He stepped away for a moment to take the call while I stood in the doorway. When he put the phone down, I remember him picking me up and saying “thank you” over and over again.

From then on, whenever he was doing something new or something good happened to him, he was convinced it was because of me. He always told me that I was his “good luck.”

My dad was mischievous his entire life. That mischievousness followed him into adulthood, and eventually he shared some of it with me. My mom would always say that he was “putting bad ideas into my head,” although I like to remind everyone that I was raised too well for that—and the “well” came from Mom.

My dad and I loved playing jokes on my mom. I remember making prank calls to her before she came home from work, sometimes taking them a little too far.

Even though, Dad was even more mischievous when he was young.

When he was around seventeen, he and his friends snuck out one night. He came home and accidentally broke his bed frame and ripped his only sheets. The next morning, he and his friend tried to cover up the broken bed before anyone discovered what had happened. His grandmother eventually found out, and Dad not only got in trouble—he had to fix the bed himself.

I feel blessed that I know so many stories about my dad’s life. They are more than funny stories to me now. They are pieces of him that I get to keep, share with other people, and someday pass along. Through those memories, I will always have part of him with me.

My dad was also an incredibly smart and capable man. He knew how to fix almost anything by himself. There is a saying that reminds me of him: “A house is not a home if it isn’t repaired by bare hands.”

More importantly, he wanted me to have that same independence.

He wanted me to be self-reliant and never believe that I had to depend on another person—or on a man simply because I was a girl. People around me have said that my father raised a child with “no gender role,” and in many ways, that is true.

Growing up, I could wrestle in the mud and go to ballet class. I could wear my dad’s old clothes and also wear my mom’s dresses. I could be strong and independent while still enjoying the things I liked. My dad never taught me that there were things I couldn’t or shouldn’t do simply because I was his daughter.

He taught me that I should learn how to do things for myself.

There are also so many simple memories of Dad that I will carry with me. Weekends playing Monopoly together, even though he was usually a cheater. Sitting in our backyard and having dinner. Spending time by the pool. Learning things around the house from him. Traveling together and experiencing places such as Greece, Dubai, Italy, India, the Bahamas, Mexico, Florida, Universal

Those ordinary moments have become some of the most important memories I have.

Me and dad loved six flags great adventure, so much so that we had annual season passes and we went on every ride together, in Universal Islands of adventure he liked the velocicoaster so much we went on it 9 separate times in one day.

There were also things Dad was looking forward to doing with me as I grew older. He wanted to teach me how to drive. He wanted to help me look at colleges and choose where I would go. There were so many milestones ahead that I expected him to be there for.

Although he will not be here for those moments in the way I imagined, what he taught me will be.

His independence will be with me when I have to figure something out on my own. His intelligence and curiosity will be with me when I am learning something new. His sense of humor will be with me when life becomes too serious. And his mischievous side will probably be with me whenever my mom catches me doing something I shouldn’t be doing.

My dad gave me more than memories. He gave me stories. He gave me lessons. He gave me confidence in myself. And he gave me parts of himself that I will carry with me as I grow up.

One of my very first memories is of my dad holding me and thanking me because he believed I was his good luck.

As I look back at the life I was fortunate enough to share with him, I realize how lucky I was, too.

I was lucky for the time we had together.

I was lucky we had the same interests.

I was lucky he was always there

I was lucky that he was my dad.

**Funeral Information**
Funeral Puja, Viewing & Last Rites/Cremation
*Date: Friday, October 2,2026
*Time: 9:30 am - 11:30 am (EST USA)
*Location: Franklin Memorial Park
1800 Rt 27
North Brunswick, NJ 08902

Arrangements are under the respectful care and direction of Funeral Director:
Christine Cuoco of Ruby Memorial Funeral Home.
Family & Friends may offer prayers and condolences at: www.rubymemorialhome.com