Marks forty days since you returned to Allah, Ibuk

Yesterday since morning, our home was full—full of footsteps, full of prayers, full of people who loved you. Family came and went, helping, cooking, and sometime talk about you. By evening, not only our close family but all nieces, neighbours, everyone gathered filled this home. But among all the people who were here, one person was missing: you.

These past few days, my mind keeps whispering all the “How Ifs”

How if I could have done more?

How if I could have done better?

How if Allah had given us just a little more time?

My mind has been crowded with questions—questions about myself, about the things I did and didn’t do, about every moment that has now become memory.

My heart also keeps whispering all the “should haves.”
You should have lived long enough to see me and adik get married.
But then it hits me—
even if you had stayed until our married and only then returned to Allah, I know I would still find myself saying:
You should have waited to see your grandchildren…
You should have waited until they went to school…
You should have stayed with us longer… maybe even forever.

All these “How ifs and should haves” made me realize one thing:
There will never be a truly right time for me to lose you

Grief feels messy.

Sometimes I’m fine, and other days I cry just from looking at a glass of water I’m drinking. Sometimes I cry in the middle of watching people walking by. But the next day, I drink from the same glass and somehow I’m fine. Grief feels like tidying up a house that is never finished.

Thank you for raising us. Thank you for giving us the chance to grow, even though I know it wasn’t easy for you. While parents want their children to stay close at home, you let me and adik away from home, chase our dreams, and build our own paths. Thank you for carrying so many worries in silent and so much longing just to let us grow into ourselves. Thank you for believing in our dreams more than we believed it. You prayed us into the people we are.

I’m home more now, Buk (I’m sure you know that). Sometimes I get dressed carelessly :D, and I can almost hear you say “Mbak Ul, that doesn’t match at all.”. No one can stop me now, But I promise, I’ll try to dress better (once in a while) :D

Thank you for always saying that you were a lucky mom to have children like me and adik from the very beginning.

My therapist reminds me that we are only separated for a while, until the day we reunite again in Allah’s heaven. There are three deeds whose rewards never cease even after someone has passed away: Sadaqah jariyah, beneficial knowledge, and the prayers of a righteous child. I pray that our lives are filled with these kinds of goodness, so that one day, by Allah’s mercy, we will be reunited again, where there is no more goodbye, no more pain, no more separation. InsyaAllah.

So don’t worry, Buk… Adik and I are growing well. We truly are.

With all the endless longing,

Mbak Ul (the name you always called me with such warmth)