He was just like a Human Computer. A genius in Mathematics, the kind of person who didn't need calculators or second guesses. Just numbers, always flowing effortlessly from his mind. I remember watching him work out complex equations in his head while I stood there, stunned, barely understanding how his brain could move that fast and still be so calm.

But it wasn’t just the math. He had this quiet wisdom that felt rare. The kind that didn’t need to prove itself. It just was. When he spoke, you listened. Not out of fear or force, but because you knew what he said came from a place of deep thinking and lived experience.

He was also the most resilient person I’ve ever known. Life threw so many storms his way, but he never cracked. He adapted, held steady, and kept going with a strength that didn’t shout. It simply endured.

I wish I’d asked him more questions. About his thoughts, his childhood, the way he saw the world. But I was younger then, and I thought we had time.

Now, when I struggle with something, especially things that feel impossible, I think of him. And somehow, I find a little more strength to keep going.

Some people are made of something different. He was one of them.