I really like this song. It’s the typical Avril Lavigne ballad, but I like the piano bits in it.
When you’re gone
The pieces of my heart are missing you
When you’re gone
The face I came to know is missing too
When you’re gone
All the words I need to hear to always get me through the day
And make it OK
I miss you
– When You’re Gone by Avril Lavigne
I miss my dad this week more than ever. I walked into my parents’ walk-in closet today to get a tudong, and I could smell his scent. I don’t know if my mind was in the process of remembering my dad that I had accidentally trigger the memory of the smell, but it was there. It’s the smell that was always around every time he returned home from his Friday prayers. My dad was not one to use perfume that contains alcohol. I had tears in my eyes, but I rubbed them off, and read for him al-Fatihah instead.
When my dad was discharged from the hospital, after his surgery, he and my mom had opted to sleep downstairs, in the guest room because my dad had trouble walking, let alone going up the stairs to the master bedroom. My mom still sleeps there to this day, I think she doesn’t want to leave yet, just how she’s not packing up his things from his side of the closet.
Anyway. The other day, I continued to have my daily lie-ins, by moving myself from the bedroom, to the guest room downstairs. My mom and sister were just about to leave to work and school, so they left the air-con on for me. When I woke up, it was bright as day, and I had looked to my left.
When my dad was still alive, and when he was still recovering from his surgery, he would rest a lot, so he would be on my left. There was once this one time, — it’s still fresh in my mind — he awoke from his nap, and I was just lying there, with the cover up to my nose because it was too cold for me, and I waved at him, and said hi. He smiled and said hi back.
That was what came into my head when I looked to my left. That particular memory.. was too hard for me to handle, so I rolled onto my right side, as if I didn’t want to remember the little details. As if that particular move would prove effective.
He was such a vibrant character, and everyone had loved him so, it’s unbelievable.
Usually, when football season was on, he would usually invite his favourite nephews over to watch Manchester United play against another team. He would buy them their favourite food, that particularly unhealthy one, I’ve been told: nasi katok. These cousins of mine would occasionally mention that the house seemed so quiet without him, and there was this one time where they had asked me to buy the nasi katok that their uncle used to love buying for them, because it was just the best thing that they’ve had.
My dad.. bapa, as I call him.. his English is not so good, but speaks it anyway. In the past, I would be a tad embarrassed, but now, I miss him saying the silliest things. Like when we climb into the car, before he drives off, he would recite the du’a, and he would ask, “All aboard?” and his pronunciation would be very off with the latter word. And we would say in an annoyed, yet adoring, “Yes.”
I miss the way he would sit with us while we watch a movie, and he would say, “I’ve already watched this, and I know how it ends. This is a boring movie, let’s watch something else.” We would then ask what happens in the end, and he would always say, “Entah ah, bapa inda ingat.” Translation: “I don’t know, I don’t remember.”
He was a strong man, too. I have never see him in pain, except for the time when he had the accident in Seria. I cried, seeing him in such pain. I was okay, when I heard my dad had an accident, I prayed to God that he would be all right, and I stayed calm. However, I broke down when I saw him on the hospital bed.
I was happy again when he recovered well. Then, God gave me the biggest trial I’ve ever faced. We lost him 40 days after he was involved in the accident.