What My Mother Taught Me

Sometime ago, I think it was during the Malaysia's mother's day Ummikusayang dot come launched a competition for any of the members of ummikusayang to do a write up about "what your mother taught you". I didn't participate because I am slow that way. I did read many of the write ups. Many of them wrote about how their mother was their influence on their excellent culinary skill.

This bring shame to me. My mother was a great cook. She also used her talent for the extra pocket money. When I was young, i had to follow her send her kuehs to kedai kopi. She made excellent kueh. But did I learn any? Noooo. To much shame.

I taught about this for sometime until the competition finished. Hahahahha.

Until recently I was reminded again. I think I know the answer now. My mother was the one who taught me to read the Quran. She always spend her time on the floor and me with a muqaddam on the rehal doing the alif ba ta and later on continued to read. Until i was confident enough to read the quran then only she sent me to some ustazahs.

I grew up thinking,this is what mothers do. Mothers are the one who teach their children the early reading of the quran. There is no other way to it. So that was it!

I knew I will grow up becoming an executive and drive an Audi and play tennis and I know I want children of my own and I will make sure I will take the full gear responsibility to teach my children to read the holy book.

But not the masak kueh and jahit-jahit part though. despite growing up seeing my mothers do it, I don't feel that it is a mother's job. Maybe because she did that for our living. I kan nak jadi executive bawak Audi. :P (sekarang menyesal dan kueh tak ada bubur nasi pun tak ada)

But now, looking around me, i see all mothers send their kids to a better teacher, a better sheikh. I am sure their kids reading are much better than mine. Not to mention faster too. So I am not sure whether I am actually doing the right thing.

But then when I think of my mum, I always make dua' that Allah multiply her hasanat and the good ilm that she taught me (and the other children she taught)and that the quran will be her defender in yaumul akhirah. When i read the quran I ask Allah, to double triple quadraple the hasanat of me reading to her.

And I feel that I want these from my children too.

We talked about this, Haziq and I. That how much i need dua' from him (and the other two copetot). I may not be able to fulfill this hadith,

Narrated by Uthman, "The best of you is the one who learns the quran and teach others."

I may not be able to teach others but at least I have my children, Insya Allah.

And if we cannot teach, do not despair, because our effort and encouragement in ensuring our children are learning the quran counts big time!

I ask Allah to guide me to do the right thing to nurture them in becoming the best of mu'meen.

It Rains on the 1st March 2010

Oh Allah, shower upon us abundant of rain, beneficial not harmful1, swiftly and not delayed. Abu Dawood. Al Albani Sahih Abu Dawood

It is raining today. Thunder and lightning.

Back in the year 2006, it rained on 23rd February. I remember this because I blogged. You can still read it HERE.

On the 23rd February, all of us had to rush back to Malaysia because my mother who previously had a violent fit, fell into coma and was admitted into ICU.

It rained the whole day on the 23rd February 2006.

I think since the year 2006, Qtar has never rained at this time of the year.

It's nearly four years since my mum has left us. And so many things have happened since then. Praises all go to Allah for His abundance of mercy.

May Allah shower mercy on her. Expand her grave and shine light in it. May Allah elevate her status and may we all be reunited in Jannah.

Pelaburan untung berlipat kali ganda

It has been two years today that my mum left the worldly life to meet our AlKhaliq. I still miss her the same. But it is ok now. I can talk about her bravely. I still cry to myself when I remembered her smile in the ICU seeing me. I still cry when I pray for her. Those prayers that you sit and raise your hands and you really really beg to ArRabb for His continuous rahmah on my mother (and me).

As you all already know, Allah, with his tremendous mercy, gives us the very chance to increase in manifold our rewards even after our death. Imagine that! And we all know this beforehand, so we can start putting up investment at this very minute!

The investments come in the form of giving charity, spreading beneficial knowledge and leaving the world with children of righteous qualities.

My mother, with little money that she had, was not a philanthropist. However, I pray, that her Quran teaching to the neighbour's kids will be a delicious reward for her. And if these kids (who are grown ups by now) continue to teach even their own kids, her rewards will increase, and if their kids continue to teach and read themselves, the reward will go on forever down to the very last downline till the end of the world. This is MLM at its best. Kalau kat dunia ni dah kira boleh dapat Mercedes sebijik.

I also pray that her teaching masak-masak such that a family, with the knowledge that my mum taught, can earn some living can be considered as spreading knowledge. Allah knows better.

I am praying that the little things and monetary that she gave will be rewarded accordingly. I believe that Allah is fair. Its good that we can be generous like Mr. Syed Mokhtar. But I am sure economies of scale applies.

All children who care about their parents should be grateful to Allah that He being AlRahman AlRahim has grant us a chance to do our last deeds for our parents. Punyalah sayangnya dia kat makhlukNya ini. Sampai macam tu punya peluang Allah kasi kat kita. If we are righteous the reward go to our parents too. Woo peluang baik ni. Mari kita rebut!

And as parents ourselves, we can start the investment with our children so that we can die happy, in the knowing that, Insya Allah, what we leave in the world will continue to work for us.

And that last one worries me most.

Another year

It must be lonely. Breaking fast by yourself. When you use to have a wife fussing over food. You must have remembered how the four of us would wait at the table for the azan. Eyeing the food. All the time delicious. You have always said the best time of the year was when breaking fast. I must agree for I am enjoying it with my family, your grandchildren.

And then everybody grows up and everybody grows old.

Somehow I also remembered how you have always liked keroncong. I remebered the nights that you dimmed the lights down and put on the turntable to the tunes of old keroncong. Ibu would make you ABC or any dessert and sit with you talking the night out. I would be grumpy because keronchong was just not in. Bukaklah Casey Kasem ke apa.

Ayah, I was watching Mukhsin the other day. At the end of the movie two old couple sang this simple keronchong, maybe a bit low for ayah's taste, but it reminded me of both you, ayah and ibu.

I imagined Ibu singing out of tune and you singing everything like elvis. Or you would strum the guitar while Ibu still sing out of tune. Or you would sing and Ibu would strum, again right chord, wrong strum.


The clip from the movie Mukhsin. Pssstt thanks bear

It's your birthday and I can feel the loneliness.

We all miss you terribly and wish that things are just different.

Happy birthday ayah.

A Year Now

It has been a year you know, since my mum passing. It seemed like it was only recently that I went through one month ordeal in and out of the ICU and aother one month staying with my dad after.


I missed her so much. I looked at the children, and I remembered how much she spent time with them. My parents are the ones who would nick my kids to the playground. (Yes rotidua, I am one of those who dera my parents to take the kids to the playground while lover and I bercanda. heh heh).


I blogged nearly everything during the one month, except for the last week before her passing. I couldn't cope with the emotion then. It was hard to visit her knowing that her time was near. I remembered a week before she died, the chief doctor came to talk to us, and said what was probably the obvious. She had been on the machine for a month. Her lungs shrinking, her blood pressure getting lower. In fact the level was at it was due to the medicine, her liver totally failed. They could not do dialysis on her because of the low blood pressre. They told us to expect the worst.

I can still remeber, how I tried my hardest to compose myself for the sake of my dad, for the sake of myself. My dad didn't understand the jargon. What he understood was, he was going to lose his wife.

I looked at the doctor and wondered, she must be tired. My mum is just another patient. Another number in the chart. Another statistic. I remembered telling her, treat my mum like she would be alive not like she would die tomorrow. She nodded. I trembled. Then I couldn't blog about it. It was too much and to pull everyone into the emotional drain..I don't know...seemed unfair at that time.

The days of the week were numbered. Everyday we looked at the blood pressure reading going down. Heartbeat readng going down. Yesterday, last year, her BP reading turned red. Do you remember I was cooking ikan bawal masak kicap in a sticky pan? We were all alerted to come.

But being here, in Qatar, sometimes make you forget and sometimes I feel that two month ordeal was just a nightmare. That she is around doing her cooking.

I was looking at some recipes for oh-so-very-often-pot luck here, and I found one that she use to make. I was in the kitchen. I got up to my computer, ready to skype her. Excited and all. Then I realised, OMG, what am I doing. This was last month. I sobbed.

Oh the pain is still there tugging my heart.

Thank goodness to blogging, I get to reread what happen during those days. It's all HERE and HERE. I read and am always reminded just how much she loved me. She couldn't speak then, but love, as you know, is a language of the unspoken.

Word Sunday : Pristine

I have just finished reading "the five people you meet in heaven - Mitch Albom". I know I know its' an old story already. And nearly everyone has read it. Dah ada movie pulak tu.

It is more than natural that I thought of my mum all the way reading the book. Unlike many other good daughters in the world, I only learnt that my mum has dreams and likes after her death. I also got to know she has fears and hopes. That she was not just a mother. She was a person.

Sometime before her death, as narrated by my Mak Tam, she often dreamt of her mum, my late nenek. My nenek gestured my mum to come and follow her. Go to her world that she is in now. My mum woke up probably scared. She'd probably cried. I don't know. But she told my Mak Tam, she didn't want to go. Not yet. There are things she has not done yet. Unfinished business. (Actually when it comes to death, I don't think any thing is ever finished. There are always reason that we would ask given a choice to delay it unless under torture)

I find it chilling when I hear this story. Partly because of my late nenek kept coming in her dreams like a bad premonition. But also, I do wonder whether I am one of the unfinished business. I settled my hard feeling sometime last year which I have said often enough, I count my lucky stars for it.

You know I never did call her. When I want to tell my parents something, I called my dad instead. Or I ask Haziq to make the call for me. I regret that. Ever so often the wound throbs back in my heart and squeeze it tight as I sobbed to myself. However, I will always remember the last call I actually made to her. On purpose. I was already here in Qatar. My kids were still sleeping. I had her all for myself. No passing on the phone when we run out of subject.

I talked to her about the things that I wanted her to post over. All sterile subjects. Finally I made myself ask how she was. Not just because it is a standard thing to ask someone. But really how are you Ibu. She said sakit sikit-sikit je. Then I told her about my plans for my parents to come visit me for the next raya. That we bought an 8-seater car so we could bring them everywhere comfortably. That Mecca is near. That she should stay longer here. It was probably not as mother-daughter conversation that one should have, but I thought it was already beautiful as it was. I didn't ask whether she missed me and the kids though. Because it is just not the way we do things.

However, I have lifted the heavy veil , finally. It should be easier after that.

Only there were no other calls after. She was always in the bed each time I call or YM.

I have always wondered where did my pristine glass of youth go to? How did it got lost? Smeared by finger prints of adulthood? Cracked and jagged.

Well what are you waiting for? Go go call your mum. Make your day for your old life.

How my Mother Becomes an Ibu

I was raised to call my mum, emak. It was not until I was perhaps five that I changed to call her Ibu.

I was beginning to read then. I remembered reading a Malay book about a family of a grasshopper. In the book, like any other Malay literature, it used "Ibu" as a term for mum. And it just struck me that the word "Ibu" is just beautiful. Endearing, short and perfect. Cultured yet loving.

The whole idea of the word "Ibu" somehow seemed so romantic to my naive mind than. The idea of changing it is thrilling in the first place. But to have call her Ibu,I think would have fulfilled part of a child's literature dream.

So that's what I did. I asked my mum whether I could call her Ibu instead. My mum, who was probably delighted that I could read, agreed astoundingly.

Now that I am an Ibu myself, I really am at awe with my mum. My children wanted to call me mummy when they were introduced to english books. Unlike my mum who happily agreed, I stood my ground. Ibu it is for you.

I told my mum this, when she was in the ICU. How much I admire her sacrifice of everything. Oh I so remembered her look then. She looked at me in the eyes. She didn't even attempt to say anything. She smiled a bit. Just looking at me babbling. And because we couldn't communicate we really looked at each other. Pity that it took my mum to lose her voice that only then her only daughter would really look into her loving eyes. I can only read love in them.

Lately it somehow struck me, when my kids were making such big fuss over me, calling me Ibu over and over again, I realised, I really won't be calling anyone "Ibu" forever. No one will answer me if I call. Not anymore.

Today is the mark of the 100th day that she left us.

Only prayers that I can offer her. Al Fateheh.

I am missing her just the same.

40th day

It's the 40th of my mum passing today. Now that I am here, I felt that she is actually still around. The last two months was just a mere thought. A bad nightmare perhaps. I felt that she is still doing the same thing she did. She would wake up early, cook up a bit, take a light morning nap, wakeup for lunch, and watch her cooking shows and probably chat with my dad. Then later in the evenings, light chat with the neighbours, talking about their worries, their kids. Dinner and later early sleep.

I usually YM my dad at about 9 to 10 Malaysian time. My mum was usually asleep so I didn't chat with her. Even now as I chat with my dad, I felt that she is there. Sleeping. But I can see my dad's face on the webcam. A lonely man he is. I know she is not around.

Going about here in this big car reminded me of my mum even more. I specified to my lover, I wanted a big car, an eight-seater car, comfortable even with eight adults. We have planned for my parents to come for the next eid. I imagine taking my parents to the probably numerous open houses around here. I imagine them at the back being trampled over by my kids. Yes the car is big but my kids would still cramp themselves between them. I imagine also that my mum would have trouble climbing up and down the car, and my dad would hold her hand, carefully making sure she does not trip over. And I'd probably take photos of them in the car, outside the car, behind, at the front. And them too. They'll take photos of them and the kids with the car as the background. In front the house. At the corniche. At the souqs. Everywhere.

Yes, I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking about her. Yes, I still cry when I think of her. Yes, I miss her very much.

Al Fatehah.

Mixed Feelings

I am leaving for Q@tar Friday 2045 (]apparently this is a different time than I tought earlier. So it's at 9p.m. not 4p.m.) flight Q@tar Airways. I wanted to go back on Thursday but there is only morning flight which I am lazy to take. I am leaving for KL today though. Taking the chance to register for Batrisyia's primary school, 2008 intake, just in case. *wink*.

Mixed feelings indeed for me to leave this country again. Naturally I am sad for my dad. A grown man, so used to a companion, living alone can be hard. Sigh. I just hope he can cope with it. I encourage him to join more games, other than the badminton session, to fill his time. I pointed out an archery club. He seemed interested. In fact I will suggest him voluntary work if he wants too. And I hope he will come to stay with me as soon as he can.

On the other hand I am excited to see my lover after a whole long two months. We have never been apart for this long. Man! I am in fact nervous. Tee hee hee.

Do I look fat? I have been eating good food so much, I seriously think I am building more curves than before. And my skin, oh dear. Staying in the hospital, I didn't bother much cleaning it. It's a bit coarse now I think. I went for facial. Then I trimmed my hair a bit. I bought some new clothes. One with a very low neckline, which Batrisyia didn't approve of me wearing it. (Why is it that all cute tops are so small and such low neck lines). But I will wear it on Saturday morning in Q@tar. *Winks.* Oh my! Oh my! I didn't bother with lingeries though for I can find better over there. They come in all sizes.

The other thing, this next trip to Q@tar, I must say I am a bit more relaxed compared to the previous. I was crying all the time then. Four months ago I left with a feeling of fear that I will lose my mother. The fear that became a reality. But Allah is merciful, despite all that, I had the chance to be with her, to talk to her even. An intense quality time together. I get to say everything I wanted. Forgive me Ibu for all the sins I have made towards you. I told her of my memories when I was a little child. To this she smiled. Such as it is, I am content. And I can go with a smile in my heart. She will always be with me. AlFatihah.

A new life is to begin. I will face it, chin up and all, with anticipation.

Weekend Trip

I went to my in-laws' house last weekend. It is about one and a half hour drive, door to door. This is my father's first time being alone after my mother passed away. *Sigh*

I was driving in the rain crossing the Muar River when I looked at the rear view mirror and saw Batrisyia. Her eyes were watery. I asked, "Sya is crying? Why? Why are you crying?" I was seriously trying to recall whether I snapped at her earlier on.

Have you ever ask a woman (or a girl) why she is crying? You know what would happen? The sobs would get heavier and you still get no answers. But do not stop there. Ask her gently. Pull her closer to you. "Why are you crying Sya?" Patting her head. In the midst of her heavy sobs, she said atok (grandpa). And slowly but surely, you will get your answer. (sometimes it is more difficult for some)

She said she misses her atok. She never cry when we leave her atok. I don't think it's really miss that she is feeling. I think she can sense her atok's somber mood . He seemed to be holding back seeing us go. It must be very lonely, all alone in the house. For the first time in your life.

Emotion overwhelm me seeing Sya. I sobbed quietly.

Now I am often surrounded by noise of the kids. Noise so loud and so chaotic, it drives me crazy. I must have driven my parents crazy too at one time. Perhaps there were moments they wanted me to shut up. I am quite sure there were. But now the house is quiet and empty. Loneliness can also be deafening.

And I would be leaving for Qatar soon. I can't bear the thought.

Today should be the day..

Today should have been the day I leave for Qatar. I wanted to go back to Qatar, I said to myself, two weeks after my mother passed away. I thought two weeks would give ample comforting time for my dad and both of us, as father and daughter.

I knew my dad sounded sad (I pretended not to notice) when I told him I planned to leave two weeks after. But he was also rational. It has been more than a month since my lover left for Qatar. The kids have missed their school for so long. (dahlah baru aje masuk)

It was the second night after my mother passed away, after the tahlil, my aunties talked to me. Asking me when am I leaving. I told them in two weeks time. Then they coax me to stay longer. That my dad would be all alone. It's too recent. He needs someone especially now.

I told them, I pity my lover.

They said just a bit longer. For my dad. Look at him, he looks so sad.

He did look sad. In fact, sad doesn't describe the way he looks. The way his eyes droop down without his usual twilight. The way his lips carve a forced smile. The way he would sometime stare at the empty space with a lost look.

He talks about her all the time. It's three o'clock now, she would be watching this show. Or she would be doing this or that is the exact spot she would sit. He would tell me over and over again of their matchmade marriage or how beautiful my mother was.

He misses her. We all do.

I thought for a while.

There were only the three of us. Sitting on a small bench after clearing after the tahlil.

Then I said, alright, I'll go back at the end of the month. That would be about 40 days after her passing on. Perhaps lover can be patient. Perhaps he understands. I can talk to him.

And the moment I said alright, there was a whiff of smell, lingering for a few seconds. A simple wonderful smell. Nothing like commercial perfume.

Sometimes we believe what we want to believe.

I believe I just had her blessings.

To lover. I thank you for being understanding. I am missing you terribly

This is a not a post about regret

I remembered more than a decade ago, when I went to the UK for my degree. I remembered feeling exhilarated. Can't wait to get out of here. Can't wait to get out of the world of mumness and daddiness fussing over me not allowing me to go nowhere.

I must have been quite a negative person that time. Being sour grape that I didn't go to any boarding school or not allowed to go parties like my friends. Basically I thought I didn't have freedom at all.

So I was eager to go out. Woo hooo away for total freedom.

I remembered I didn't cry a drop at the airport. There was my mum hugging me for the last time crying, and I just patted her back, telling her not to be too sad. I will be back.

I was the talk of town. The girl who didn't cry. Everyone remembered that.

But I never did go home all throughout my study years. I saved up money to travel loads. I was everywhere. To think of it I was never at home during the weekends even in Manchester. I was always out somewhere renting cars, taking the trains, everywhere but home.

I had to go home for a while. My sponsor made me come home for a while before I did my Masters. I stayed for only two months and went back to the UK.

But, but why is it that I cried buckets the moment my lover made this Qatar interview. Everyone (at least in my family) thinks that I would be jumping for joy getting out away to foreign land. But you people know better how sad I was to go.

Yes sure I want to be with my lover but something was bugging me for the whole last year. I think it was because it was last year that I am rebonding with my mum.

It does't help either that I often had dreams of her passing away. I sobbed in my dream so hard that I was actually crying out loud, only to be awaken by lover.

I remembered writing up a post on my mum, on how easy it was for me to cry when I think of her. My mum's photo is in this post

Even when I was in Qatar, I must admit that I was often sad. Infact someone commented that I sounded melancholic. You have no idea.

I told you how much I cried when I departed for Qatar. My mum was actually taken aback and was surprised that I even cried. She told my aunt this. She said "Apasal agaknya si Lollies tu nangis sesangat. This goes to show how emotionless I was. But she also said to my aunt how much she wish she could tell me not to go. She said many things can happen in a year.

Something did happen in two months.

But like I said this is not a post about regret. I do not regret doing whatever I did. This is in fact a post of maturity (perhaps) and the changes within me.

In fact when I heard what my aunt said to me, I smiled. I know she loves me.

I don't Know What to Write Actually

Today is the seventh day after my mum's demise. And it feels likee yesterday that she bought me prawn crackers from the little change at Botak's sundry's.

First of all I would like to thank all of you. Yes! Who stayed with me reading my vents from the beginning, when I had trouble coming home I am Here, She is there You people gave me so much strength in ways that you cannot imagine.

Blogging is like telling it to someone. And it is such a relief. It is even better when people respond to you. They gave encouragement. Seriously, even when they say, you do not know what to say but still say something in the end, it keeps me "there".

Some share their experience which is enlightening. Hugs to Kaezrin.

It didn't even stop there. Many gave me tips to go through this ordeal. Sms, phone calls from bloggers. Some are hilarious. Comic relief much needed.

It was hard for me and my dad to go through this for a month. It was hard for me to remain strong for the sake of everyone.

But you guys helped me somewhat. And Thank you for that.

As for me? How am I doing now? I am ok. Now people can talk to me about my mum without me being teary eyed. The first few days were bad for me. My dad collected her jewelleries and handed it to me. It's yours now, since I am the only girl. I cried looking at it. Especially the ones whe wears everyday.

I was clearing up the kitchen, throwing some of those which cannot be used. I remembered some of the plates that she cherished. I remembered this particular set of dish she had. I was seven when she bought that one. It's clear dish with thre rows of little hearts embossed at the borders. I remembered her face. I think that was her first dish set in her whole life. She was looking at it, admiring it. Laying them on the floor.

I was looking at them too, imagining my slippery fingers on the cup. When suddenly PRAAANNNGGG, a ball from nowhere hit the dishes and a saucer broke, or was it two.

I remembered her face. The dissapointed face. The set is not enough. Missing one saucer. How uncool.

It was my brother. But I don't remember whether he got it or not. I was too busy thanking God that it was not me probably. But it is very likely that he didn't get it. My dad has this thing, not to be angry when a child break a galss. Just sweep it off quickly. Adalah petua dia. Tak kosalah makcik nak cita kat sini

So all in all. I am okay. When I think of her, I recite AlFathehah as much as I can. For her, for me, for my lover, my dad and my kids.

Sometimes I can fell her face pressing on mine as we hug in the ICU. Sometimes I can fell her fingers gripping mine.

I miss her.

1:05 a.m. 28th March 2006, Tuesday

Today is her fifth week in the ICU.

Today is the day she left the world.

Today is the beginning of a new life for her.

And for the rest she left behind.

Al Fatehah and prayers for my Ibu, Rohana Rashid.


She went so peacefuly, I didn't even realise that she is gone, if not for the straight line indicating no heart pulse on the machine. Alhamdullilah I am with her till the end.

I am content. I am.

Selfish Mum I Am

Batrisyia has fever. And so does JackJack. But Batrisyia's is not too bad. I sponged JackJack nearly the whole night. (ya ka ni?). In the morning he was still flushed. Consistent sponging and neurofen.

I am tired actually. I have blocked nose myself.

The other day, I forgot to eat or I was not in the mood, I don't know/ Thus while reciting Yassin, Al wakiah and Al Mulk to my mum standing (for they don't provide chair at the bedside) I felt my head spinning and was becoming flushed and sweaty. I walked and managed to get to the nurses table and stopped there.

It occured to me, man, if anyone were to get sick it had better not be me. If I am sick who would take care of the kids.

It's a different story of course if lover was here. Then at least he could sponge me.

Scenario:

Only my dad and myself, oh and the kids, waiting for my mum. We are thankful for the spurts of visits from friends and relatives.

OH NO! MY DAD JUST CALLED FROM THE HOSPITAL AND ASK ME TO COME OVER QUICK!

Lupakanlah ikan masak kicap tu

Room with a Window

They moved my mum to an isolated room (they call it). There are two isolated rooms in the ICU. The others are open space.

This room has a window. This window overlooks the corridor. This corridor is where myself, my dad and the kids 'hang out'. Loyally waiting for my mum.

You know Haziq couldn't see his nenek right. SO i thought of drawing the curtains a bit and my dad to lift Haziq (the window is quite high even for adult) so he can peep at his nenek from there.

And that's what we did. So he finally get to see his nenek. Even from the backview.

He said it's not like how he imagine. I asked, "So what did you imagine?"

He thought that there would be one bed and nenek wuld be there tucked comfortably in a blanket, sleeping.

Ah Haziq. Even though you think the doctor should have turn the bed so that you can see her, it's probably hard for you if you can see her. So many wires, some leaving fresh wounds. But if they do allow, I'd probably show you anyway, because I want to show you, that love is unconditional. No matter what state we are in, love is there. I am willing to kiss her lips anytime.

I asked him, "So what did you see?"

He saw machines all around her. I told him, "Nenek is very very sick. Not like before this time. Those machines are all her medicines. You can help her though."

Haziq is always willing to help. "How?" he asked.

Pray for her. Special prayers for her after your prayers. Recite Fatehah whenever you can for her (Is this right? I don't know actually. To ask him to recite Yassin can take ages. *hangs head in shame*)

He recited Fatehah. Many times.

That's nenek's first grandchild for you.

Eh kalau period nak baca apa eh? Tensionnya. I feel so lost!

One to the other

One complication leads to another.

Today is her fourth week here in ICU.

Yesterday she didn't look so good.

I need my lover.

I need his strength.

Kisah di Wad ICU Hospital Muar

Latarbelakang cerita

Nama ayah saya : Zainuddin.
Nama ibu saya pula : Rohana atau lebih dikenali sebagai Cik Ana

Cerita

Ada patient baru masuk ke wad ICU ni. Well taklah baru. Dalam dua minggu gitu. Nama patient tu Zainuddin. And nama isteri dia pulak Rohana. Can you believe that? Nama couple yang sama?

Pastu dia orang letak katil Encik Zainuddin tu kat sebelah katil mak saya.

Encik Zainuddin tu masih lagi dalam keadaan koma. Cuma sesekali dia akan buka mata, but he does not respond to anyone yet. Sometimes when the nurses are trying to get his response, they would talk, or rather shout to him. "EN. ZAINUDDIN! KALAU FAHAM SILA TUTUP MATA SIKIT!" No response. "EN ZAINUDDIN! BOLEH FAHAM TAK?!" No response.

The thing is, my mum would go wide eyes and all bila dengar ni. I saw that when I was with her. Then I smiled, touched her hand, "Itu bukan ayah Ibu. Nama orang tu pun Zainuddin." My mum looked at me. Relief perhaps.

Then I said further, "And nama isteri dia pun Rohana. Ha ha ha. Imagine that." And my mum laughed too. Well she didn't laugh out loudlah, no voice remember.

Kesimpulan yang dapat di buat disini, is my mum is getting grasp of things. She knows my dad's name, her own name and she can comprehend humour. Not bad eh for someone who is suppose to have brain damage? Alhamdullilah.

Lagi satu cerita ni. You know sometimes sedara-sedara yang jauh dan jarang jumpa, dia orang bukanlah kenal the other side punya sedara tak?

My dad's cousin datang dari Trengganu melawat mother I. In factnya pasal tak pernah langsung jumpa dia, I don't even know her name and I still could not recall her name at all. Somehow masa melawat tu adalah dia berbual-bual dengan sorang makcik ni. Then she asked my dad, "Ohh mak Cik Ana pun ada datang juga ya. Duduk rumah lah ya. Tunggu Cik Ana."

I looked at my dad and he looked back.

"Mak Cik Ana? Ana mana ada emak lagi. Dah lama dah meninggal." Kata ayah

"Eh! Habis. Orang tu tadi kata dia mak Cik Ana. Saya berbual-bual dengan dia tadi pasal Cik Ana koma. Sampai peluk-peluklah." tanya sepupu ayah saya.

Cuba teka dengan siapa sepupu ayah saya tu berbual?

Hint : Ini bukan kisah hantu.

Lollies is the witch in the candy house

This is and will most likely be our longest seperation, me and my lover.

But I guess in a way, all of us learn something when we are forced into certain situation. Like in my case now, my lover has finally indulge himself in the world of chatting, the YM. Today he got to chat with Haziq and view us on the cam. I can't view him though, he is on the SLOW dial up, remember?

Anyway we were chatting last morning (at 1a.m.), I asked him what he has been eating, now that I am not around to cook. he said he's been eating bread and jam for breakfast. he doesn't eat anything for lunch. Usually I would do his lunch and put it in tupperware. Come back either get himself kebab or just bread and some fruits.

And I was damn worried.

No, not that I am concern and sad at him not having proper meals and all.

I am concern for the fact that he would really really slim down!!

And here I am, eating out everyday, feeling fatter and fatter.

HE WILL BE SLIMMER THAN ME. HUWAAAAA.

Ohhh when I get back there, you can count on me to feed him properly again. Oh yes I will.

I will make you fat Hansel, said Lollies the witch in the candy house. Oh yes I will.

Slim is also about relativity kan?

Semangat

Memang aku perlukan cheerleaders sebenarnya. Sesungguhnya duduk kat hospital ni sangat-sangat menguji kekuatan diri aku.

To start with, tak ada sapa yang boleh tengokkan anak-anak aku, so memang aku angkut dia orang semua pi hospital tiap-tiap hari. Aku sorang aje yang bawak anak kecik tiap-tiap hari. Imagine kids yang sangat aktif sekejap berlari kesana kesini kat corridor ICU tu, sekejap bergaduh sesama sendiri. Tidur semua kat corridor ICU ruang menunggu tu. Ni bukan private hospital. Ini hospital gomen. Air cond pun tak ada and you have to share it with many people yang sama juga masalah dengan kamu. Tunggu orang sakit.

Tapi aku still lebih untung dari most of them. Sebab rumah aku cuma 10 minutes drive aje. So aku mandi kat rumah, basuh baju. Orang lain kena basuh kat toilet share. Mandi pun toilet share. Aku malam balik rumah and tidur kat rumah. So aku masih ok lagi. Kalo mangsa kebakaran ke, banjir ke and apa lagi bencana alam have it worst.

Untuk mengisi masa lapang bebudak tu aku belilah buku serba sikit untuk dia conteng-conteng. Haziq biasalah ssegala majalah bebudak yang ada aku belikan. Seboklah dia buat puzzle lah, games lah. Sampai soalan budak darjah 5 pun dia nak jawab.

Aku juga syukur anak-anak aku tak banyak kerenah. Pandailah dia orang menyesuaikan diri. Ada anak orang lain tu hentak-hentak kaki, nak jajan, nak balik, nak itu..pening aku dengar. Rasa nak penampo aje. So serba sedikit bebudak ini banyak membantu meringankan keadaan aku duduk kat hospital tu. And Haziq memang suka charm semua pompuan. Makcik ke anak dara ke rajin betul melayan cakap dia tu. Aku sendiri tak tahan kekadang.

Tapi yang tak tahan duduk hospital is emotional straining yang aku alami. So far 3 minggu aku kat sini, I have seen two deaths. Maksudnya orang yang sama tunggu tu, yang ditunggu passed away.

Dah tiga mnggu kat sini, kita jadi kawan dengan orang-orang yang menunggu tu. Aku baiklah dengan akak ni yang tunggu laki dia. Laki dia macam my mum gak. In factnya masuk pun lebih kurang sama. Hari tu dah sedar, lately ni coma balik. Doktor nak operate apa entah lagi, dia orang tak mau dah and nak bawak balik. He was on the ventilator, so you know take off ventilator, kita cuma tunggu ajele.

I cried with her. Macam adik beradik dah rasanya.

Dua tiga hari ni jugak ramai bebudak yang masuk ICU. Today ada 4 year old masuk. Girl. Alaa look at her, so small, so fragile, hooked up to all kind of wires. What a sight to behold. Heart wrenching betul. Tengok parrents dia. Distraught faces.

Aku sendiri? Aku memang bersyukur Ibu dah sedar. Tapi being concious mean, I had to see her suffer. I can see her distorted face, bracing the pain. She repeatedly said

Nak balik

Tak nak ubat

Nak mati

Dah lama-lama aku jadi faham apa yang dia mouthkan tu.

Aku tabahkan hati juga tapi lama-lama aku memang tak tahan. Dan aku menangis depan dia. Aku peluk dia like a child that I was before. Tak patut aku nangis depan dia. Patut aku bagi dia semangat. Tapi tell me macamana aku nak bagi dia semangat bila aku pun hilang juga kekadang. Tengok dia suffer, ahhhh, sedih aku.

Makcik-makcik lain yang tunggu laki dia orang tu, stress sampai dia orang sendiri masuk ward. Aku syukur aku ada bebudak tu untuk sibukkan pemikiran aku ni. Walaupun aku jadi baran dengan kerenah dia orang. Tapi bila aku nangis, tiga-tiga datang peluk aku. Jack2 mesti pat aku at the back. Lover tak ada, bebudak pun sudah cukup bagus. Dia orang tak ada, aku mesti bingung agaknya.

Alhamdullilah ada ramai kawan kasi aku support with sms and calls. Yang sms mintak nombor orang pun ada. Aku happy tolong orang. So keep me busy people. YM dengan rerakan pun help, because I do need someone to talk to other than my dad and my kids.

And yes, thank goodness I blog.

Sesungguhnya aku baru faham sekarang betapa sukarnya menunggu your loved ones yang sakit. We need support most of all.

Lend me some.