Sunday, April 13, 2014

A sentiment

Even back then, when mama and I were on our way to your home, and I would notice you driving your car in the middle of the road. 8989. I would plead her to stop the car and call, so I would get a ride with you, even when your home was only 200 metres away.

You used to make me choose if I loved you more or if I loved papa more. I would never choose and when I said I love the both of you equally, you would ask me to choose one and only one. I would usually ignore you and just get onto whatever I was doing.

You hated the fact that abang and I were asthmatic and that we were always prone to sickness when we were kids. I mistook your expression as hatred only because I was a child. Today, I understand that you only meant well and wished that abang and I would be healthy kids who would listen to their dear mother when they were ordered to eat. We wouldn’t have been such scrawny little naughty kids.

 I didn’t know why I was smart enough to conclude that you were lying. But then I met her. A few years after you died, I finally met her. Amalina from Singapore, who I thought was non existent, a make believe and some mere fictional girl you created in your head to make me jealous. Amalina is, blood-related to me.

“ I have Amalina, Iman. “  

You used to go against the world and tell me that the red light means you should drive fast, and you should stop on the green light. But whenever I thought of you as rebellious and a chance taker, my thoughts bring me back to when uncle had asked you for money because he wanted to buy a motorbike. You said he might as well take the money, buy a gun and shoots himself to death. Then I figured, you are somewhere between so very careful and so very reckless.

It was as if it was yesterday that I was roaming around with you. I always knew I wanted to be around you. You made me witness the world. I still remember that we celebrated your birthday in Mekah. That very morning that we had breakfast. I still remember that you left me with your wife in London and Paris because you had to attend meetings and how we would have dinner by the beach. I also remember that you brought me back to your hometown, in Singapore and showed the place that you were born. After you died, every single time I stood on that street, I wished that it was with you again.

I still remember what you applied on your hair so that it would hold for hours. Grey away. That was the product that you used. I loved the way your hair hardens. I was the only person you allowed to touch your hair. I loved being your favourite. I loved being everyone’s favourite, but I especially love being favoured by you.

One of the last conversations I had with you was when Aunty Nani got married. I told you that the bride’s room was beautiful. You told me that when I get married, my room would be even more beautiful. Your sister added that it wasn’t certain that you would still be around when I get married. You just smirked.

It didn’t occur to me, not even one bit that you were going to die a few days later. I was foolishly too excited because I was going to be a flower girl for the wedding day. When you were admitted into the hospital, I never thought that it was this serious. When I came to visit you, you could no longer speak.

Finally, when papa broke the news that there was no hope left for you. How do I keep my composure? How do I comprehend my emotions? It ripped me apart. Words couldn't describe how damaged I was inside.You see, of ten years living, I had never felt such pain. I don't know if anyone knows this feeling but, it was a very heavy on the throat. Like I couldn't content it. The only thing left to do was bursting into tears. "He said he'd be there on my wedding day, how was I supposed to get married at the age of 10? He said my room would be beautiful. He. Can't. Just. Go."

 Today, every song, every music video that were famous at the moment, just brings so much devastation to me. Whenever I hear James Blunt’s You’re Beautiful, Avril Lavigne’s Nobody’s Home and My Chemical Romace’s Helena, it would continue to rip me apart. (That’s when I realized that I store music with memories.)

I still dream about you. I would cry in my sleep, and I would wake up finding my face wet. Eventually I continue to cry more in real life. There were times when I dreamt that you were faking your death and all I could say was thank god. I didn’t complain, not even one bit, for letting me grieve. Yesterday, I dreamt about you again and decided that I would let people know how special you are to me. I just hope that you know too, tok daddy. I miss you.

It takes all my strength, not to dig you up from the ground which you lay, the biggest part of me, you were the greatest thing, and now you’re just a memory to let go of. “     
- In the mourning, Paramore