Asslamualaikum.. :)
It's been two months since she left us and I still feel like writing about her... I know in years to come, I'll read this again..
I purposely wrote her full name in the title with the intention to make this post to appear first in the search engine when I type her name; to override the news captioned '3 pelajar IPTA maut dalam kemalangan' that usually appeared. How I wish this blog is famous enough to make such impact. But that is another wishful thinking of mine. I usually freak out if anybody tells me that he or she read my blog because this blog can be at times, very personal.
I gathered the strength to read the news; the version in which the incident was given in chronological details. I even watched the video that showed her lifeless body lying on the asphalt.. Her hands clasped on her navel, her face was covered by her red scarf and some of her hair was exposed.... To my surprise, I didn't cry when I saw that.. I scrolled down to see the comments too and indeed some of the comments broke my heart..
I can sense the sarcasm and cynical in their platitudes. It hurt to see these people, these strangers throwing judgement to the innocent kids who have passed from just reading an article of few paragraphs. I was angry for a moment. I was thinking,
"Why are you guys so mean?"
"How would you feel if you are in my shoes, a loved one looking at this bunch of crap and baseless apprehensions?"
"Aren't we suppose to think of how we would die from seeing the accident rather than poking our nose on a business that we have no knowledge of, trying to figure out what happened before the accident?"
I was immersed in a myriad of hateful thoughts for a moment. I felt like yelling at those insensitive people. I refrained myself from adding any comment on the web and took a deep breath to calm down. I tried to shoo away the whispers of syaitan that might have been laughing at me at that time who flushed in anger..
"Forgive these people, Haziah.... They are ordinary human being just like you. Who make mistakes and sometimes utter hurtful words... They don't know who Nurul is and how she was when she was alive...."
I remember she responded in silence; perhaps she drifted away in her own thoughts for it was a very still morning at the grave....
Well, I understood the doa with this very little Arabic knowledge of mine but I never really felt it in my heart until I walked into the graveyard 1st Syawal this year.. I stepped into the graveyard looking at that new grave that loomed in front of me as I moved forward.. The only new grave in our family's compound.. The soil is still red and fresh, the grave was not yet cemented and it was marked by a temporary tombstone made of wood wrapped in white clothe. We were not the first to come.. There were already flower petals on the soil..
I froze for a moment as I looked at Nurul's grave for the first time. Her death never seem so real until that day. She was not with us and I was staring at her new abode.. And less than 365 days ago I'd reminded her that one day we will be 'among them'...
I could not hold back my tears and cried in silence. Then I realized that only the kids were not crying and they have not recited Al Fatihah. Nurul and I usually recite Al Fatihah aloud so the kids could follow.. So with a trembling voice I started to recite Al Fatihah followed by the soft voices of the little ones...
We recited Yassin in charity to the family members that have passed away. Mommy was slower than the rest of us that she was still in the middle of the surah when the rest of us have finished. I sat beside her, listened to her stuttering recitation and corrected some of the minor mistakes that I managed to detect. It reminded me that Nurul have played her role in teaching my mom in reading the Quran too. She was a more persistent teacher than I was.. A soft but stern teacher; that's how mommy always describe her..
A friend of Nurul was with us on the first day of raya. I saw tears keep falling down her cheeks. So I asked Aunty how was the friendship of the two.. I was surprised to know that, Nurul, during her life have helped this girl a lot since she was from a family of 11 siblings, raised by a single mother. Nurul sometimes invited her to join us whenever we went for visit at the hostel. Nurul even shared her books with this girl. MashaAllah...
That afternoon, I browsed through the old albums and looked at the pictures of when we were little. She was either sitting on my lap or carried in my hands... We were always so close... Until the last day we hugged each other and did our signature handshake... We were always so close....
She is still the first person that crossed my mind when I opened my eyes in the morning "Alhamdulillah... Here I am still alive and she is no longer with us" tears would pool in my eyes.
At first I thought how fragile I am to have not stop crying until today. The frequency reduced, tough, but I still cry when I see something that remind me of her and this is very hard because these things revolve around me in daily basis. There are clothes and scarves of mine that she used to wear and that we bought together. There are parts of the fence at her house that she had painted a week before she left for UPM and even the design of their house's new gate was picked by her.. My mom still choked in the mention of Nurul's name then her voice would turn hoarse before tears fall... We have accepted her passing but it is the longing.. Our longing to see her again, to hold her in our arms and hear her voice and hearty laughter... That is the hardest part...
But day by day, we start to learn the beauty of Allah's plan.. How the loss have drawn us nearer to Him more than before. It strengthen our bond as a family. Well, we are always close with the frequent meals and activities together but this new bond is somewhat more meaningful because we are there for each other to keep all of us strong..
I, for a change, become a less fierce aunt. I'm actually the strictest in the family and who usually won't back off when a decision is made. Nurul was the softer and the more tolerant. Nurul used to be the savior of the kids from my wrath and rage. Now that she is no longer around, I think I should loosen up a little bit and use a different approach to handle their monkey business.
Mom and I spent more time in my uncle's house when I'm back for the weekend. When Nurul was around, we used to spend at least one night there. Nothing special, just a simple dinner together or watch a movie together or Nurul and I would be inside the room chatting. But now a new thing is added to the normal routine; congregational prayer. And after that we now have this short session where we would discuss the translation of a surah, how and why it was revealed and Ucu would share some new tajwid knowledge that he learnt from his weekend tajwid classes. I find it soothing to be around them, draped in our silky prayer clothes and sharing knowledge. I feel really close to the Divine with the love of my family around me. Sometimes I feel like Nurul is there with us; watching, smiling, happy that her passing have led to something so fruitful.
When I sit alone, memories of my last moments with her would rush in. I realize there were times that I sensed that there was something not quite right about her. I remember how she frequently emphasized to me that she don't know why she had chosen UPM despite hoping to go to UIA or study abroad. She said, it felt right but at the same time it scares her.. "Takut sangat kak jiji.." She said it during dinner.. She said it while we were packing her stuffs.. She said it before we go to sleep.. She said in my car while we were on our way to the airport.. She said it again while we were waiting for her family.. And before she entered the departure hall she said she hoped I could make it for her registration...
I remember when she said "Sara.. Kalau kakak tiada nanti Sara tak bole nakal macam ni tau.." when sara was jumping on the table. Fazed, I stared at them in bewilderment to what I've just heard. But then I went back to what I was doing and waived all the bad thoughts away.
And that last picture we took together.. She was embracing me so tight that I actually jumped and looked at her hand pressing on my waist. Hold it for a moment before I made that peace sign (^^)v And to this day, the image of her hand on my waist is actually among the most vivid memory in my mind....
I have felt it.. I knew something bad was going to happen.. I carried a very heavy load in my heart for weeks and I was sad whenever I think of Nurul. I even cried when I was browsing through her pictures in Instagram before I went to sleep in Brussels. Despite all the signs and all the weird feelings, I didn't figured it out.. Because the day we return to Allah will always be His secret, only known to Him :)
I miss her very much and this is a fact that I won't deny.. I don't want to live in pretense that I'm all strong and sturdy.. That her absence didn't stir me.. I'm going to cry for as long as I want and as much as I want because these tears are not tears of weakness but these are the tears of longing. In my longing I find strength.. Every time I'm hurt, I'm just grateful to be alive.. When I'm pushed away, I feel Allah is near and and He will let the right people to come nearer too. When I'm tired from relentless work, I see the image of a petite girl cycling to work under the scorching sun.. And the best thing about this longing.. I could send her a simple gift of a short prayer when she crosses my mind...
It's been two months since she left us and I still feel like writing about her... I know in years to come, I'll read this again..
I purposely wrote her full name in the title with the intention to make this post to appear first in the search engine when I type her name; to override the news captioned '3 pelajar IPTA maut dalam kemalangan' that usually appeared. How I wish this blog is famous enough to make such impact. But that is another wishful thinking of mine. I usually freak out if anybody tells me that he or she read my blog because this blog can be at times, very personal.
I gathered the strength to read the news; the version in which the incident was given in chronological details. I even watched the video that showed her lifeless body lying on the asphalt.. Her hands clasped on her navel, her face was covered by her red scarf and some of her hair was exposed.... To my surprise, I didn't cry when I saw that.. I scrolled down to see the comments too and indeed some of the comments broke my heart..
I can sense the sarcasm and cynical in their platitudes. It hurt to see these people, these strangers throwing judgement to the innocent kids who have passed from just reading an article of few paragraphs. I was angry for a moment. I was thinking,
"Why are you guys so mean?"
"How would you feel if you are in my shoes, a loved one looking at this bunch of crap and baseless apprehensions?"
"Aren't we suppose to think of how we would die from seeing the accident rather than poking our nose on a business that we have no knowledge of, trying to figure out what happened before the accident?"
I was immersed in a myriad of hateful thoughts for a moment. I felt like yelling at those insensitive people. I refrained myself from adding any comment on the web and took a deep breath to calm down. I tried to shoo away the whispers of syaitan that might have been laughing at me at that time who flushed in anger..
"Forgive these people, Haziah.... They are ordinary human being just like you. Who make mistakes and sometimes utter hurtful words... They don't know who Nurul is and how she was when she was alive...."
السلام عليكم يا اهل الديار من الموءمنين و المسلمين و إن
إنشا الله تعالى بكم لا حقون نسأل الله لنا ولكم العافية
"Peace be upon you all, O inhabitants of the dwellings, amongst the believers and the Muslims. Indeed we are, Allah willing, soon to follow, we ask Allah for well being for us and for you"
I was revising the doa with dear mommy when I suddenly recalled the conversation that Nurul and I had during the 5th day of Eidul Fitr last year. We'd spent the 1st Eid in KK and was only back in Labuan on the evening of the fourth. We went to visit the grave on the morning of the 5th. We were the only family around and we spent quite some time there clearing dried leaves and the bottles that people had left behind.
"Nurul tau ka sebenarnya maksud salam tu yang kita ni akan menyusul dorang ni... Sebab tu main reason kita lawat bukan mengingat dorang yang suda pergi.. Tapi mengingatkan diri kita yang masih hidup..."
Well, I understood the doa with this very little Arabic knowledge of mine but I never really felt it in my heart until I walked into the graveyard 1st Syawal this year.. I stepped into the graveyard looking at that new grave that loomed in front of me as I moved forward.. The only new grave in our family's compound.. The soil is still red and fresh, the grave was not yet cemented and it was marked by a temporary tombstone made of wood wrapped in white clothe. We were not the first to come.. There were already flower petals on the soil..
I froze for a moment as I looked at Nurul's grave for the first time. Her death never seem so real until that day. She was not with us and I was staring at her new abode.. And less than 365 days ago I'd reminded her that one day we will be 'among them'...
I could not hold back my tears and cried in silence. Then I realized that only the kids were not crying and they have not recited Al Fatihah. Nurul and I usually recite Al Fatihah aloud so the kids could follow.. So with a trembling voice I started to recite Al Fatihah followed by the soft voices of the little ones...
We recited Yassin in charity to the family members that have passed away. Mommy was slower than the rest of us that she was still in the middle of the surah when the rest of us have finished. I sat beside her, listened to her stuttering recitation and corrected some of the minor mistakes that I managed to detect. It reminded me that Nurul have played her role in teaching my mom in reading the Quran too. She was a more persistent teacher than I was.. A soft but stern teacher; that's how mommy always describe her..
A friend of Nurul was with us on the first day of raya. I saw tears keep falling down her cheeks. So I asked Aunty how was the friendship of the two.. I was surprised to know that, Nurul, during her life have helped this girl a lot since she was from a family of 11 siblings, raised by a single mother. Nurul sometimes invited her to join us whenever we went for visit at the hostel. Nurul even shared her books with this girl. MashaAllah...
That afternoon, I browsed through the old albums and looked at the pictures of when we were little. She was either sitting on my lap or carried in my hands... We were always so close... Until the last day we hugged each other and did our signature handshake... We were always so close....
She is still the first person that crossed my mind when I opened my eyes in the morning "Alhamdulillah... Here I am still alive and she is no longer with us" tears would pool in my eyes.
At first I thought how fragile I am to have not stop crying until today. The frequency reduced, tough, but I still cry when I see something that remind me of her and this is very hard because these things revolve around me in daily basis. There are clothes and scarves of mine that she used to wear and that we bought together. There are parts of the fence at her house that she had painted a week before she left for UPM and even the design of their house's new gate was picked by her.. My mom still choked in the mention of Nurul's name then her voice would turn hoarse before tears fall... We have accepted her passing but it is the longing.. Our longing to see her again, to hold her in our arms and hear her voice and hearty laughter... That is the hardest part...
 |
| Her last message |
But day by day, we start to learn the beauty of Allah's plan.. How the loss have drawn us nearer to Him more than before. It strengthen our bond as a family. Well, we are always close with the frequent meals and activities together but this new bond is somewhat more meaningful because we are there for each other to keep all of us strong..
I, for a change, become a less fierce aunt. I'm actually the strictest in the family and who usually won't back off when a decision is made. Nurul was the softer and the more tolerant. Nurul used to be the savior of the kids from my wrath and rage. Now that she is no longer around, I think I should loosen up a little bit and use a different approach to handle their monkey business.
Mom and I spent more time in my uncle's house when I'm back for the weekend. When Nurul was around, we used to spend at least one night there. Nothing special, just a simple dinner together or watch a movie together or Nurul and I would be inside the room chatting. But now a new thing is added to the normal routine; congregational prayer. And after that we now have this short session where we would discuss the translation of a surah, how and why it was revealed and Ucu would share some new tajwid knowledge that he learnt from his weekend tajwid classes. I find it soothing to be around them, draped in our silky prayer clothes and sharing knowledge. I feel really close to the Divine with the love of my family around me. Sometimes I feel like Nurul is there with us; watching, smiling, happy that her passing have led to something so fruitful.
 |
| The calls I made on the day I left for Europe.. |
When I sit alone, memories of my last moments with her would rush in. I realize there were times that I sensed that there was something not quite right about her. I remember how she frequently emphasized to me that she don't know why she had chosen UPM despite hoping to go to UIA or study abroad. She said, it felt right but at the same time it scares her.. "Takut sangat kak jiji.." She said it during dinner.. She said it while we were packing her stuffs.. She said it before we go to sleep.. She said in my car while we were on our way to the airport.. She said it again while we were waiting for her family.. And before she entered the departure hall she said she hoped I could make it for her registration...
I remember when she said "Sara.. Kalau kakak tiada nanti Sara tak bole nakal macam ni tau.." when sara was jumping on the table. Fazed, I stared at them in bewilderment to what I've just heard. But then I went back to what I was doing and waived all the bad thoughts away.
And that last picture we took together.. She was embracing me so tight that I actually jumped and looked at her hand pressing on my waist. Hold it for a moment before I made that peace sign (^^)v And to this day, the image of her hand on my waist is actually among the most vivid memory in my mind....
I have felt it.. I knew something bad was going to happen.. I carried a very heavy load in my heart for weeks and I was sad whenever I think of Nurul. I even cried when I was browsing through her pictures in Instagram before I went to sleep in Brussels. Despite all the signs and all the weird feelings, I didn't figured it out.. Because the day we return to Allah will always be His secret, only known to Him :)
I miss her very much and this is a fact that I won't deny.. I don't want to live in pretense that I'm all strong and sturdy.. That her absence didn't stir me.. I'm going to cry for as long as I want and as much as I want because these tears are not tears of weakness but these are the tears of longing. In my longing I find strength.. Every time I'm hurt, I'm just grateful to be alive.. When I'm pushed away, I feel Allah is near and and He will let the right people to come nearer too. When I'm tired from relentless work, I see the image of a petite girl cycling to work under the scorching sun.. And the best thing about this longing.. I could send her a simple gift of a short prayer when she crosses my mind...
