Coping with Loss

Half year ago today, I hurriedly listing down my works after telling my manager that I just got a call from mom asking me to come home because my dad's health condition had dropped. I tried to find flight ticket and managed to get a seat for the next day.

When my flight was taking off, I wished I could see him and that by seeing me he would get better. I landed in Jakarta around 5 p.m. My uncle came to pick me up at the airport then we just hopped on to the car. He did not say anything, acted as anything was normal. But then when I turned my phone on, I received a message from my cousin, telling me to be patience. I started to think why would she sent me such message. But, I did not have the courage to ask my uncle. Then, a call came in from Dhilla, asking me where I was. Then she started to cry. That moment, I knew I was late. Though I realised I did not make it to see my dad, it hadn't hit me just yet. So, I just spent the rest of the ride home as normal as possible, talking about random stuff with my uncle.

As we got closer to the housing complex, I could see the yellow flag, the sign that someone in the neighbourhood passed away. As we reached home, so many people, relatives, neighbours, parents friends were there. I learned that my mom and brother were still on the way back from the hospital with my dad.

Then my dad arrived. I never thought I would see him with no more warmth from his body that soon. I had been excited waiting to come home on August so we could finally spend Eid together. But, Allah decided my dad would not be there by then.

I was trying hard to process the situations, I was trying to imagine how it was gonna be when a father figure suddenly gone. I was sad that I couldn't go home sooner to at least see him alive for the last time.

إِنَّا لِلَّهِ وَإِنَّا إِلَيْهِ رَاجِعُونَ

To Allah (Almighty God) we belong, and to Him is our return.” (Qur'an 2:156)

Reminding myself that everyone would eventually die, and recalling the past years where I had been witnessing my dad turning his way of life more and more into what Allah loves, I believed my dad went away as a believer and that he would return to the best place where Allah had prepared for him. With these thoughts, I did not whine. People told me that I seemed so strong, but really, what else could I do?

Been half year since he's gone, many times this fact hit me and left me in tears. It's still hard to imagine living without him to go to when I need to hear his words, for his advises. It's weird coming home and not seeing him, while he had been the person who asked me the most where I'd like to go whenever I was home for holiday. It's not easy but life goes on. I miss you every day, Papa ♥