I am a bit depressed. If I put it the things I have in my mind down in a numbered list, maybe they won’t seem like a lot.
I am broke.
I haven’t talked to the boyfriend in ages. Something is going on on his end.
I want a car that I can’t have.
I don’t have a (full-time) job.
Syawal is coming soon, and it’s the first without dad.
Don’t even mention Ramadhan, it’s sooner.
I am broke.
I was supposed to be out with a friend, but in an unexpected turn of events, I’m at home.
I just have so many on my plate at the moment. Mind’s all jumbled up.
Because of thought #4, my mom’s been pushing me to post my resumes everywhere. Not that I don’t want a (full-time) job, it’s just that I’m the kind of person who needs to do one thing at a time. I can multi-task, but it’ll be messy — it’ll leave me a mess!
Because of thought #1, I can’t cheer myself up with things I can buy. Like, maybe, a DVD movie, or a Japanese meal.
Thought #2 is really the big problem here. If I had him to talk to, I can just forget about everything else. He’s like.. my everything. Even when I’m broke, or when I want a car I cant have, or when I don’t have a (full-time) job, or when I’m supposed to be out but not.. Or when I’m broke. Or when I don’t feel like posting my resumes everywhere.
I keep boxes. In these boxes are things that I keep for memory’s sake. On them, I label the year they belong to.
Tonight, I took out the 2004 box, for no reason. I saw some pictures that didn’t belong in that year, but they all bring a rather dreary feeling they decide to call nostalgia.
My printer/photocopier/scanner has given up on me since eons ago, so I had to make full use of my camera, so excuse the quality of these pictures. (I didn’t even bother editing them in Photoshop.)
This is during sungkai with Izzah, but I don’t remember if this actually belongs in the 2004 box.
I know this is definitely not 2004. It’s 2003, from left, that’s Pram, me, and Daniel. I lost contact with these two, and I’m sorry it had to happen because they were really great guys. They were in my Biology class, back in Maktab Duli.
When I was browsing through the photos, I just had to put this one up! CLASSIC! When was this, I don’t remember! From left, Izzah, Tiq, and myself. What I remember is that this was taken in a shop at The Mall. The shop is now closed, I think they didn’t do quite well.
Liz and I. Taken during on the Raya family outings. (I remember posting this on one of my old blogs, and I remember those earrings! I wonder where they’ve gone?)
And this.. is my favourite. (How can it not be?)
That was dad keeping a lookout for my little sister. He once used to study in Preston, Lancashire, and we decide to have a roadtrip to London. This was on Trafalgar Square, back in ’97!
Aww, looking at the last picture reminds me that my family and I always meant to go back and visit the UK on holiday. We fantasized on having the fish and chips, and maybe drop by Preston and see how much it has changed.. Now that dad’s gone.. they’re all just plans.
Sigh. Just one of the times when I miss my dad. So prepare yourselves. I can either annoy you or reduce you to tears. :P
I always miss my dad, that’s just natural, but the sad thing here is: he is slowly fading in my memory.
Not in a sense that he is not remembered, but his characteristics. How he laughed. the way he talked, his smile when he was up to no good.. things like that. The smallest things that I always miss, and now, I can barely even remember them.
Every time I have time alone, I’d look through his pictures, re-live the memory, and try to remember how he was like. It still feels unreal. Unreal that he’s gone. Unreal that I still can’t get over it, though I have accepted it.
I really miss his laugh. He brightens people’s days up, let alone his family’s. He loved to share his riddles, especially in car rides home, and some of them would make no sense at all, he just wanted us to laugh after a long day at school/work. He was also always a mediator too, whenever I quarrel with my mom or my sister. There is only less than five occurrences when I had a disagreement with my dad, so I needed no mediators, as he would just give in.
One thing that has been in my mind is that.. I am really looking forward to the Singapore trip, but I am definitely going to miss my dad’s presence there. He always bought us nasi briyani from the restaurant located just a minute away from our hotel. Whenever he came back with a couple of bags of goodies, he would just sit down, watch TV and once in a while look at us devour the food as if we hadn’t eaten in ages.
He was the greatest dad I could have asked for. Not perfect, but he was just great. Now that he has left us for good, my mom has uncovered a few things to me that I hadn’t known when he was alive.. and I am thoroughly grateful to Allah for giving me such a great dad like him.
(Not going to share what the things were. :P)
Random thought: The boyfriend says that reading my blog is like looking in to my thoughts. Whaddya think? I think he’s somewhat close. ;)
All right, sad moment over. It’s time to get more Z’s now, and be excited for tomorrow’s outing with the girls! My Wife Is A Gangster 3, here we come!! :D
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.
I feel drained. I haven’t been doing much, yet I strangely feel so.
Went to the movies with more than a dozen people today, and it was so much fun. We booked the tickets on Friday, and this afternoon, we went for our movie outing. Some of us have watched the movie more than once, and only a few have never watched it. I don’t really think I need to mention the name of the movie, I might make people sick of the thought itself. Haha.
I just can’t believe that I’m exhausted now. After reading the tahlil for my dad after I’ve done my Maghrib prayer, I dozed off on the living room floor, right on my praying mat. Funny thing was, I kept my head on the place where I sujud so that it wouldn’t seem so stupid of me to put my feet on the spot. It’s something that comes naturally to me. Where your head goes, isn’t supposed to be where your feet go. And vice versa.
I sidetrack all the time, don’t worry.
Anyway. I finished reading Cecelia Ahern’s P.S., I Love You. It really wasn’t my cup of tea. I had finished reading this two weeks after I had started. I love chick-lit, but I don’t know, I don’t think any other author could beat Sophie Kinsella’s books when it comes to this genre. Or maybe I’m more into the lighthearted content.
I could relate so much with Holly Kennedy, the book’s main character, but it shows just how much Islam is such a beautiful religion. As Pablo once mention in his post, the tahlil and the recitations of the surah Yassin is so good for the soul. I believe that Allah has helped me so much through this, by the people He has surrounded me with and the new ones He introduced me to. They are people who believe so much in Him.
When I was reading P.S., I Love You, I was disappointed in Holly. I wished she could pick herself up halfway through the book, but then I think to myself that I can’t expect others to be as strong as I am, or for those who are stronger than I am, I can’t expect them to be more vulnerable.
If I hadn’t gone through the death of my beloved dad, maybe I would have loved this book. Maybe my heart would go out for this character. Because I know not how it feels to go through such thing. But now, especially when she said that her late husband, Gerry, was too young to die, I just couldn’t accept that. Your time is up, when your time is up, you may be 5, or 50, it does not matter.
But that’s what I’m talking about. Islam is a beautiful thing. It teaches us how to move on, how to accept that we will all return to Him one day.
Ness once posted about — and it goes something like this, because I remembered it like so — that if Allah decides you are strong enough to go through a situation, thus He gives you that situation, because he knows you can get through it. I’ve come to terms with that now. And I wish Holly Kennedy was a real person so I would stop thinking too much about this. Haha. :P
Anyway! I had spotted Ahern’s other book, If You Could See Me Now, a paperback, on Liz’s bedroom. The cover looks real pretty, and I was reading random pages on the book, and asked Liz, “Is she in love with an alien?” She said she didn’t know, then I asked, “Oh, don’t tell me, she’s in love with a ghost?” Liz said maybe.
Maybe I’m weird, yes? But I do like the cover. Makes you feel like walking barefoot in a field full of flowers. Only, the thorns of some unknown growth might poke the soles of my feet, which, in the end, might ruin the great, euphoric feeling that the picture seems to show. Pfft. Book covers. Always misleading.
I will post Colbie Caillat’s songs in the next entry. And maybe slip in a Plain White T’s song. Stay tuned. ;)
I just got my duty roster yesterday afternoon. I’m happy with what I’ve been given, but I’m so anxious to start. Every time I think about going to work, my heart beats so fast, and I have to try and think hard of something else to divert my thoughts of messing up in the studio. This is what one month of time off does to you, people. It’s not good.
I’m excited to be working again, but.. yea, read the above paragraph. :P
Yesterday was a Friday, and I couldn’t visit my dad. My mom and sister went, with the usual entourage. I have never felt like I was missing something in my whole life. It’s as if I depended on those Friday visits. I went with my mom and sister, but I stayed in the car, in the parking lot.
I switched on the radio, changed the channel to the recitation of the Al-Quran station, which made me feel a bit relieved, like I’m not forgetting to read surah Yassin for my dad, or neglect to sedekah to him the tahlil. I then dozed off, in the blazing heat of the sun. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t like mosquitoes or anything that stings and make me itch, so I didn’t roll down the windows. Imagine that.
Then I woke up to my mom’s sharp rap on the window.
My mom then proceeded to tell me that we need to sedekah my dad something every time we remember him, of course, unless we can’t. She gave an analogy that goes something, like, if we sedekah to him every day, it’ll be like providing him with loads of gushing water. If we forget, or become lazy, then he will be thirsty, as if he was only given one drop of water. Something like that lah ah.
Which then made me feel like I had forgotten him. But, there will be next week. I will at least read him something once a day when I am , ahem, clean. I just have to. I need to keep him happy, wherever he is.
In other news, I bought the book by Cecilia Ahern, the one titled P.S., I Love You. A little behind the times, but better late than never.
Ooh! That reminds me. You know, these days, I feel like I am a different person now. I’ve been doing some thinking as well, and by the end of these thoughts, the voice inside my head comes up with these old sayings, like, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Yea, I feel like I am a stronger person now. A lot of it has to do with the coping of my dad’s death. I do not wish it on anyone, not even my worst enemy. A death of a loved one is so, so hard. It’s like when someone else’s loved one dies, you feel for them, but there is nothing like going through it first-hand. Not that all this while I had thought coping with death to be easy, but I never knew it was going to be this hard.
You know, at times my mind drifts off in a split second, and I go back to that emergency room, looking into my dad’s eyes, willing him to look at me when he was no longer breathing. Then when my eyes start to water, I stop and get back to the present. It happens more when I am doing nothing.
Being the lazy bum that I am, it happens a lot.
Anyway, I was doing a little blog-hopping, and I found this blog. I find it.. interesting, and I’m making it one of my daily reads. Most (or even all) of what she wrote are true. I agree most on how blogging used to be fun. Blogging used to be just that: blogging.
Thank you so very much for dropping by and leaving a comment. I read the entry you posted on the 2nd November 2006. It made me cry. I haven’t cried about the loss of my father for a week and a half now, I’ve just been smiling at the thought of him — and I pray everyday so that he is resting peacefully.
I know that death happens, and I have been preparing myself for the loss of anyone close to me, giving myself tiny pep talks. I have always prayed that no one had to die when I was alive, but you know.. Anyway. When my dad passed away, it was such a shock to me. Of course, the death of my dad was a shock in itself, but I was caught off guard. It didn’t feel real. My dad? Not breathing? Not being able to disapprove of the things I do? Not alive?
Now I look at pictures of him back then, looking very healthy — and fat — the first thought that came to my head, was like, “Mana bapa ah?” And then two seconds later, I realized he was not there anymore. He was such a vibrant character, very funny, and he loved to laugh. He doesn’t dwell on his problems, and tried to give everything I had wanted.
Enough about me. This post was supposed to be a thank you note. Haha.
So, I’d like to thank you, for reassuring me that my late brother will be taking care of him too. What most people don’t know is that I have a brother, he died of still birth, two years and two days before I was born.
Also, thank you, for sharing your experience on handling an issue like this. It is such a painful and sad thing to go through, and all we need is someone who’s willing to be there.