I was rushing work. Deadlines were looming over my head. I was already excused from a trial which I was supposed to assist the bosses on because there were not enough people in the team for the work to be spread out.
The clock shows 3.07p.m. Bonda calls me up and says "Hajar, Mak Ncik meninggal, pukul 1 tadi". I did not have anything to say except 'I didn't even know she was sick' and 'I can't go'.
And then I put down the phone. Nenda calls me up. She is crying. I tell her, I cannot go and leave all this work. She continues crying but says ok.
I put down the phone. And I remember something. The last time I saw her was during Aizul's wedding. I remember I was the 1st one to see her arrive. I remember me, a 28 year old running towards her like a little child and giving her this huge bear hug. I remember holding her hand and leading her to the wedding reception. I remember salam cium tangan dia because I had to go back early and I said to her 'Jumpa lagi'. There was no next time except for this.
I drop everything and tell Nenda, I am going.
We drive all the way to Bentong for the funeral. It was slightly drizzling. And after saying our goodbyes, came back home.
I came to know that she passed away in her sleep, just like her husband a few months back.
I don't understand when people tell me 'It was a beautiful funeral...'. Maybe it is something they want to convince themselves of so that they will feel better. I do not see any beauty, only grief.
I remember a saying by Khalil Gibran:-
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran
And he is right. I am sad because the memories I had, that is all that I will ever have.The things that used to give me such much pleasure with her, I will never have them again. I will never be able to hug her again, I will never be able to hold her hand again. Never be able to say to her 'Jumpa lagi'. Never again.
The clock shows 3.07p.m. Bonda calls me up and says "Hajar, Mak Ncik meninggal, pukul 1 tadi". I did not have anything to say except 'I didn't even know she was sick' and 'I can't go'.
And then I put down the phone. Nenda calls me up. She is crying. I tell her, I cannot go and leave all this work. She continues crying but says ok.
I put down the phone. And I remember something. The last time I saw her was during Aizul's wedding. I remember I was the 1st one to see her arrive. I remember me, a 28 year old running towards her like a little child and giving her this huge bear hug. I remember holding her hand and leading her to the wedding reception. I remember salam cium tangan dia because I had to go back early and I said to her 'Jumpa lagi'. There was no next time except for this.
I drop everything and tell Nenda, I am going.
We drive all the way to Bentong for the funeral. It was slightly drizzling. And after saying our goodbyes, came back home.
I came to know that she passed away in her sleep, just like her husband a few months back.
I don't understand when people tell me 'It was a beautiful funeral...'. Maybe it is something they want to convince themselves of so that they will feel better. I do not see any beauty, only grief.
I remember a saying by Khalil Gibran:-
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran
And he is right. I am sad because the memories I had, that is all that I will ever have.The things that used to give me such much pleasure with her, I will never have them again. I will never be able to hug her again, I will never be able to hold her hand again. Never be able to say to her 'Jumpa lagi'. Never again.
Perginya, pergi yang abadi,
Pergi yang tiadanya kembali,
Amanlah roh di sana menanti,
Semoga dicucuri rahmat doaku dihati.
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