I Am A Thousand Winds...

Ramadhan and Syawal have been marked with many passing of our beloved ones so much so that whenever my parents are sound asleep, I would try to locate their breathing signs and I would attempt to wake them up. I don't think I have done and given enough to make them happy and please at their old age. Such thought makes me cringe at night - time is running short and I have so many things to say and do for them.

Today, as I was cooking extra special lunch for them - to celebrate their completion of Puasa Enam - I realise that we would never have enough opportunities if we think we only celebrate their love and care for us only on selected days and occasions. Mak and I had small talks about big things - about ihsan to others, about redha to God's blessings and ketentuan, about enliven those positive traits in our forefathers. Alhamdulillah, I share all of Mak's ideals and I think that would have make her happy to know that I would do what she would do to others when she is no longer around.

True love is about taking care of small things, cherishing the ordinary and living it big in our heart, always.

As our parents grow old, I have learned that we must treat them as tenderly as we could just like how they had treated us when we were small, fragile and scared. They need a little more reassurance and attention. They need us.

I wish to remember those who have passed on to the Other Side in every day's greatness God has granted us. May God blesses their souls and may they know they are forever be in our heart.

In loving memory of them, I would like to share Hayley Westenra's "I Am A Thousand Winds That Blow", based on a poem by Madam Mary Elizabeth Frye.

Till Death Do Us Part...

There have been too many deaths lately.

On Monday, Raden Galoh and Tok Keno passed on to see their Creator.

Two weeks ago, Mak told me she feels like she is going to die. The next day, my sister told that my First Angel told her to bury him next to his sister, Nor Sara, so he could accompany her, when he died.

And I have yet to shed tears (but I feel puffy inside). Surprising enough considering people think I am such a cry baby.

Am I too cruel to not feeling anything?

Frankly, I have been searching deep inside and I have found the answer to death.

"The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time"

~ Mark Twain

Here's why I would look at Death under different shades of perception.

The thought of death is comforting especially when we are given with signals that our time to see our Creator is just around the corner.

The idea of death is enlightening that it makes us see the best in everyone and everything, no matter how small that could be.

Death prepares us to let go of everyone and everything we loved but never let go of any opportunities we have to do our best for them so that by the time we move on to the Afterlife, we know that we have left them with something to cherish, some burning desire to attain our purpose of being alive, making life ticks faster so that we could, one fine day, meet again on the other side of the world.

Death teaches us to be selfless that we would give any goodness in us in God's eyes so that our loved ones on the other side would be in better place.

Death makes us say our prayers without fail because we know we won't be able to do so many things in such short time, under such short notice, that we seek God's mercy to place a wonderful feeling in the heart of those we loved so they feel our love, to evoke a memory in their hearts so they know we are forever in their heart, to plant their faith firmly on God's strength that death makes them stronger and wiser in many ways, and to lift a burden of sorrow from their souls so that they know we once existed in their life to bring contentment.

With that perceptions in mind, I feel like I have changed. I have slowed down so I could take time to do things that matters to my loved ones and myself. I toned down because I don't think I should 'stop the fire with fire' (Donald Lim's idea of Chinese PERKASA to fight PERKASA). I contemplate (do i deserve today for being just me?). I swallow my pride (shouldn't i just improve myself so that they could be proud of my humbleness?). I feel happier (everyday is my last day so why should i hesitate).

I am sorry if I make some of my dear friends out there a little worry of my prolonged silence. It is indeed magical that I could sense your thoughts on me and I am thankful for having your emotional and spiritual company in this life.

I am sorry if I decided not to do anything to some of you out there because God knows better - I am better off letting you go, slipping away through the fingers of time. Definitely not because of I, now, decided to despise you.

I am sorry if you think why I am such a sad being. Sadly, I am not sad for what I am today. I thank God for what I am because I know there's better agenda for me in the future. Well, this isn't wishful thinking. It's my gut feelings.

I hope till death do us part...

My Mushy, Marshy March

I have a habit of reading Obituaries and headstones. Once, in our way ‘balik kampung’, we passed by a Chinese cemetery. I zoomed in at one headstone as it looked new to my eyes and I saw a photo of a young man. My heart turned silent. That night, he came in my dream and asked why I looked at his plot. He told me he died in an accident. I apologised and he left me in peace.

March had been a dramatic month in its quiet way. Somehow, year in, year out, it has always been a mushy marshy one for me.

They say, in Seventh Heaven, our souls are like leaves hanging from a big tree. When one of the leaves drops, it means that one close to us will pass on to the Hereafter. If you are closed enough, you could sense the vibration as the leave dropped down, passing your way. March has been that kind of month where I sensed too much vibration and that made me sad and scared.

During ‘kenduri menyambut menantu’ for my aunt (Angel), I didn’t feel like celebrating – tak la, I wasn’t sad because I’m yet to be hitched OK. Alamak! That’s so lame a thought you have there sir!

"Heaven"

I thought of Pakcik Ahmad, Abang Man’s ever friendly and cheerful father. He along with Ummi, Abang Man’s sis and family came over for my brother’s ‘kenduri menyambut menantu’ in December 2008. I should have invited them along too this time around but I was caught up with my beloved ‘boyfriend’ – my works – I forgot to do so and didn’t feel good calling him up at such a very late notice. Pakcik Ahmad met one of his good friends during our kenduri decades after they last met. Sadly, he passed on that fateful Saturday at 3.45 pm. Now, I couldn’t look at Abang Man for I would be reminded of Pakcik Ahmad. I was closed to tears meeting him in the lift the other day. “Boleh Pakcik Tanya Awak Orang Mana?” question during tea at her daughter’s house after Abang Man and a few of us from office dropped by after our site visit down under revealed that Abang Man’s brother in law is related to Mak. He connected the missing link between me and his side while I connected him to his good friend during the kenduri. For that, he would always have a special place in my heart. Along with my late grandmas and grandpas and Abang Long Khir, my cousin, I have added his name in my daily Al-Fatihah.

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live” ~ Norman Cousins

During my brother’s kenduri, Tok Da also came over. When Ayah was posted to our Embassy in The Little Red Dot, Tok Da and his family would sleep over at our house to accompany Mak, me and my baby sis when Ayah had to go for some ‘mission’. I am sure Mak was deeply comforted by her presence since my late maternal grandmother, who passed on when Mak was 9 years old, looked exactly like Tok Da. Thirty years later, Tok Da’s son found me a great place to stay when I was there for some attachment program. My landlord – the best I ever found – had a tough time making sure everything was tip top for me. After a couple of month, I thanked him for his great hospitality. He said Tok Da told him that anyone can even sleep in Mak’s sparkling clean restroom and no way should I stay in a shabby place! While I tried my best (ya, I quit trying because no one would surpass Mak’s ISO standard in house management – she’s the QUEEN), I was glad I shared with Razak, my landlord, how to do his laundry better, cook sago gula melaka, laksa johor and gulai asam pedas johor and not forgetting how to remove ink stain from his shirt (milk would do).

Tok Da had undergone a major surgery last Friday, to remove a growth as big as a baby’s head from her intestine. She is now very weak but we all pray that she would be strong enough soon so that Mak Long Halimah, her eldest, could bring her back to their house in JB. During my short stint there, I saw where Mak, me and baby sis get our ‘strong’ genes from. At her age of early 80s, Tok Da is still active around the house but most of the time, I just pity her because she is rather lonely as her children and grandchildren are always busy. I wish I could spend more time talking to her over Bengawan Solo’s kueh lapis and onde onde. Despite that, she always has good words to say about others. She confessed a lot of things yet still thinks we should always treat people in the best of ways – no matter what. I know her time in this world has almost ended and I pray that she would have it easy for she has been a strong yet kind lady, a loving wife and a caring mother, surrounded by her beloved ones.

“As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death”

~ Leonardo da Vinci

Death brings sadness and it makes me curious too.

Mak told me a good person would be granted a wish by God to see his loved ones after his death, which explains why sometimes Mak dreamt of her mother and heard Tok saying something to her. I told Mak she always have that privilege because she never fails to recite Al-fatihah for her parents all this while God has granted her an access to see them whenever she wants. I am sure you too would have experience such thing when you could feel such presence, think of them and do or say great and meaningful something out of thin air.

Alfred Nobel was so depressed that the obituarists emphasised on his pioneering work on dynamite – W(eapon) M(ass) D(estruction) – that he endowed his enormous fortune to Nobel prizes. I wonder what my obituary would sound like when I'm gone.