Remembering Those I Lost

I know some people who think it is morbid to think and let alone, talk about death. I was one of them, until my grandma passed away in front of my eyes in 1999. I was with her at the final moment. I remembered touching her feet and they were ice cold. If I were to say that I was not afraid, I would be lying – because I was. I could only afford to say a prayer in my heart that Allah would make it easy for her to go. It was not that I wanted my grandma to die quickly – but I wanted her to go peaceful. My grandma breathed her last breath with my grandpa next to her, stroking her hair, whispering prayers in her ears and I heard him say,” Mon (my grandma’s name was Maimon), if you have to go, I’m willing to let you go.” My grandma passed away surrounded by her children and grandchildren. It was the morning of Aidil Ad’ha 1999. I will never forget that experience that Allah has given me – to learn and treasure.

I did not get to see my father during his final moments – that was in August 2004. I was not with him. I remembered Mak telling me not to tell people that I was not around when it happened, for fear that others may label me at the “unfortunate” or “undeserving” child. Apparently, there are some Malay elders who believe that if the child is not present or if the deceased did not see any one of the children, the child will be looked upon as someone who must has done something wrong to the deceased. Some Malays do hold close such unfounded beliefs. But, it did not bother me. What they spoke of me behind my back did not and will never bother me.

Though some people may say that my father’s death was somewhat sudden, I was not really shocked by it. Deep in my heart, I knew one day he would go. And on that day, that very day, while I was in the MRT and it passed by my friend’s block whose father passed away early that year, suddenly my heart just whispered,” Ana’s father just passed away. I wonder when my father…” I remembered stopping myself and deviating my attention and thoughts to something else. I wondered now whether it was Allah’s ways of telling me or reminding me to at least call him or talk to him. I don’t know. I regretted brushing the thought aside because I never got another chance to talk or see him. The last time I saw him was 3 days before and looking back, I wished I had just picked up the phone and talk to him.

There’s no point regretting now. But Allah taught me a very important lesson – don’t take anyone you love for granted and always listen to your instinct – it is hardly wrong.

I remembered receiving the phone call from Mak that same night, telling me that Abah had collapse. She did not elaborate further and just told me to stay home as the ambulance made their way to TTSH. I knew something was not right but Mak had always been someone so strong, even in a moment such as this, she sounded calm and assuring. I have always been taught that the best gift we, children, can give to our parents is just our du’a. And that was the only thing I did. I prayed to Allah, half-knowing, half-rejecting that maybe it was time for Abah.

I could call it mere coincidence but I believe it was Allah’s perfect timing. Right after I said my last salam, the phone rang. I knew that was it. I cried because I wanted to at least see him, touch him, hold him. But I never had the chance. I always dreamt that when Abah grew old, I would be able to ferry him from one place to another like he did when I was young. But I never had the chance.

But Allah knew what was in my heart, how I felt about the loss. Abah came to me in my dreams – holding my hand. I will always remember that dream vividly. Allah gave me the opportunity to ask him, why he left me so soon. I remembered him smiling and he appeared to have said that he would come and see me again, though I could not remember seeing his mouth move. And he did – a few times in my dreams.

Exactly a year ago, Abah came again in my dreams. It was the night before my birthday. He smiled and he always looked young. It was as if, he was wishing me happy birthday. Last night, I didn’t dream of him. But I did not matter because without him, I won’t be here celebrating my 34th birthday – with eyes brimming with tears but a smile on my face - remembering him and Nenek for all the sacrifices they have made and knowing yet accepting that I will never ever be able to repay their kindness.