I've been wanting to write about the things that happened these last few days. I would like to write them down before I forget. I will in due time. Just like the rest of my body and mind, my fingers feel so drained.
Something Haruki Murakami wrote in I can't remember which book comes to mind. The dead moved on, it's the living that suffers. Something along that line. I find it very true. Grieving really is painful. Being brave for other people is painful. Carrying this heavy feeling in my chest is also painful.
I believe, among my siblings, I was the last to have a conversation with my father. I don't know whether I can call it a conversation. But the image of my father looking at me with a smile and the words he said kept on playing in my mind. Over and over.
My SIL Nor said maybe I was chosen to hear it. My SIL Kak Ros and my brother Lan said it was my rezeki to hear it. I now doubt them. Rezeki but also a curse at the same time. Because my heart hurt every time the image and words play in my mind. The pain shoots down right into my stomach. And the only thing I would like to do is to double over at one corner and cry.
At about 10.30am, 2 hours before my father breathe his last, he opened his eyes wide, looked at me, smiled and said, "Aku dah tak ada dah... Aku dah tak ada...".
Something Haruki Murakami wrote in I can't remember which book comes to mind. The dead moved on, it's the living that suffers. Something along that line. I find it very true. Grieving really is painful. Being brave for other people is painful. Carrying this heavy feeling in my chest is also painful.
I believe, among my siblings, I was the last to have a conversation with my father. I don't know whether I can call it a conversation. But the image of my father looking at me with a smile and the words he said kept on playing in my mind. Over and over.
My SIL Nor said maybe I was chosen to hear it. My SIL Kak Ros and my brother Lan said it was my rezeki to hear it. I now doubt them. Rezeki but also a curse at the same time. Because my heart hurt every time the image and words play in my mind. The pain shoots down right into my stomach. And the only thing I would like to do is to double over at one corner and cry.
At about 10.30am, 2 hours before my father breathe his last, he opened his eyes wide, looked at me, smiled and said, "Aku dah tak ada dah... Aku dah tak ada...".
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