two days after the unthinkable happened, she instructed me to clean the shelves. her facial expression, her body langauge, was far from what i had imagine it would be. she did it in calm and casual manner. that’s how strong my mother is. and it broke my heart into many tiny pieces.beyond repair.
the shelve contained a lot of stuff that once belonged to my ayah. the shelve, strategically place beside the dining table by his wife ( so that he can gain easy access to it. ) this is where he place his medicine, files, pens, his cappucino flavoured tobacco ( to prevent his beloved harris from grabbing it and smelling it at the same made faces saying "eeii…kokok atuk…eeii…cuk…" ), the silver container to roll the paper, his nail clippers, his accu check ( to test level sugar in blood for diabetic ) his files, loose papers, his assorted lighters, tupperware after tupperware of biscuits to spoil his beloved harris to the fullest and a lot of other things which i forced myself to stop recall for fear of wetting my cheeks with drops and drops of tears. with me, tears come very cheap.
and on that faithful morning, i was picked by my mother to clean the shelve.
i ask her " ma, tak awal sangat ke nak kemas tempat nih?"
"habis tu, kau nak tunggu bila? dah takde orang nak makan ubat tu lagi, buang jelah. simpan pun nak buat ape?"
"simpan buat kenangan……" but of course, the last sentence did not come out loud.
if you ask my friends, they would say that i’m the type of person who would do things quickly. if you ask my boyfriend, he would say that "ya, dia ni gila mengemas." but for this task, i took the entire morning just to sort out the mess in the shelve.
i touched everything. i read the labels. i shaked bottles after bottles of pills that he bought for every illness that he had. yes, ayah was the kind of person who is rajin to look for cure or prevention. all empty. yes, when it comes to eating pills, he was very discipline. that was ayah.
i opened every files. i ran through every rough papers. i looked at his handwriting. it was and still very painful. i wish i could leave the shelve the way it was. just for the sake of it.
without my mother’s knowledge. i kept most of the stuff on the shelve. but i did put some into the garbage bag, for fear that she will notice the emptiness of the bag. the funny thing is that, i did not take it out anymore once i placed it in the box, away from my mother’s sharp eyes. it comforts me to know that i still have ayah’s stuff with me. knwoing that, at crucial times, i can take it out and………
it’s true what madam rosalind said today in asian lit class: "when you lose your parents, teh pain, it will hits you later." that night, when i accompany my ayah for the very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very last time, i felt numb. i just read surah yassin over and over again and again and again and again……….i slept with my head rested beside his arm. at this moment, ithe feeling of losing him still had not sink in yet. well, he was still there….funny eh…..i tried not to fall asleep. and each time i woke up from dozing off, i got angry with myself. when subuh approached, my sister asked me to go and have a bath…oh my, that was the quickest shower in my life…lagi cepat dari mandi kerbau…
the next day, when it was the time to bathe him….alhamdullillah, the whole family was there….i was instructed to clean his hand…the feeling was…..
"aku macam tak percaya dik…ayah dah takde…."
this was our frequently mouthed phrases for two weeks and occasionally now. i always, i think automatically set my mind that he is not gone, he just went hunting ( which he loved so much ) or fishing ( he loved this too ) and just forgot to come back…extended vacation sort of….pathetic huh…
i miss him so much….
Al-Fatihah
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