I’m still out of words over the very idea that you’re not here with us anymore. Probably the same way I was never really big with words in our conversations and in our own peculiar ways of expressing our love.
You had an admirable, dominant tone in your voice. Our family gatherings weren’t complete without you. I secretly admired the way everyone showed respect towards you. You made me giggle - all the time. You were generous. No, you were extremely, massively generous. You played a huge part in every big event of our lives.
I remember when I was in my third year in Sydney, the doctor told me I had anemia, you called asking me to find and eat spaghetti bolognese because it was my favourite and the meat would help with my condition. And God knows how many times in other occasions you helped me throughout my time studying abroad.
I broke down yesterday during your funeral as I saw the soil slowly tumbling, dust by dust, into your last abode. So did Mama, next to me. We held each other’s hands tight, both Mama and I, in front on you. And at that very moment, my head started playing some of the most beautiful small moments we had. Like the time the three of us had roti canai near our place. And the time you were with us at the airport cafe, making me giggle as always, before I flew off to Sydney. And the many meals we had together at the Golf Club.
God knows how much I wanted to spend time with you too the past weeks at the hospital. I was heartbroken I couldn’t with all the sicknesses I had from the horrible suppressed immune system of a pregnant lady. But I whispered your name in each & every one of my prayers. And I guess Allah did answer my prayer - you are no longer in pain now.
When everyone had left yesterday, I came back & stood in front of your grave. It was beautifully peaceful, I probably could hear the directions the trees were swaying. And the birds started chirping somewhat harmoniously. I was still not big with words. But that very moment, that must have been the most beautiful conversation I had with you.
Rest well now, Tok. May our family all reunite in Jannah one day. And for that, you make me want to become a better muslimah. Thank you.