A Year Ago, Today (2)

Please note that the short sentences and empty space made between each sentence in this post are intentional. They signify the emptiness the writer felt when recording one of the tragedies in her life.

I woke up to the sound of footsteps.

I looked up; trying to see through hardly opened eyes and saw a nurse changing Papa’s drip.

It was 8.30 am.

Papa was lying down, still.

I SMSed my sisters, asking them when they’re gonna come.

‘In an hour’ was their reply.

‘Please bring toothbrush. Breakfast if possible’


I’m still in yesterday’s clothes.

I went to the washroom and washed my face.

Went back to Papa’s bed, looked around, and saw the doctor making his round.

It was the young doctor again; he was at the bed opposite of Papa’s

When he reached Papa’s bed, he had nothing to say, only a lot to write down.

He gave me a concerned look, I gave him a bland smile.

He left.


By now I've already received a lot of SMSes.

'Papa Ayu masuk hospital? Semoga cepat sembuh, sabar ya'

He isn't going to 'sembuh', and yes, I think I know what sabar is, thank you. I just don't like it when people say 'Sabar ye'.

It's as if that person is telling you that you are not 'sabar' enough and they feel they have to calm you down. It's as if, if they don't say it, you might turn berserk and murder someone.

And 'Sabar ye' to me, signals that you are experiencing a tragedy in your life, and all you have is your sanity to hang on to.

I don’t like it.

'Kami nak datang lunch time, ward berapa ek?' was another SMS, from a friend.

I sat at Papa's bedside, my mind wandering off to some other thoughts.


'Hi, how are you keeping up?' Nina said, with a plastic bag of food in her hand.

'I brought you toothpaste, toothbrush, food, newspaper'

Thank you.

Liza came with a backpack of clothes.

‘We had a hard time with the guard when we wanted to come in’

Apparently the guard said ‘Seorang sahaja yang boleh masuk’

‘Ni nanti I nak pergi solat kat surau luar tu, macam mana I nak masuk balik? Sure dia tak bagi’

‘Our father’s dying. Tell him that. I’m sure he wants his children to be with him when he’s on his deathbed’

We sit some more after I have brushed my teeth. Nina read the Yassin. Both me and Liza were uzur.


We received visitors that day.

Family, bosses, ex bosses, colleagues, ex colleagues. Many people came.

‘What happened, what did the doctors say?’

That, continued with the many ‘Sabar ye’


It was late afternoon.

‘The doctor wants to talk to all of you’ someone said.

We walked out.

Waiting outside Papa’s room, was the young doctor again, and his colleague, an older female doctor.

‘Basically, there is nothing we can do’, the older doctor said.

Yeah. I thought we already know that?

‘I have a father too’, she continued, ‘and I know how it feels like. But I guess now is the time you should start calling your relatives’

And she went on telling us things we already know, also about Papa’s current condition, how the bleeding is getting worse.

Yes, it is her job to explain. But I wasn’t interested.

I blocked out everything anybody says after the HKL doctor said ‘There’s nothing we can do’. Hence, further explanation, to me, was unnecessary.

‘How active do you want us to be?’ she said.

By this she meant, what do we want them to do if Papa’s heart suddenly stopped beating. Do we want them to jump in and resuscitate him?

No we don’t.

‘I understand. As Muslims, we want to make it as easy as possible. Buat apa nak seksa dia’, she said.

The young doctor nodded. We nodded.

Agreed. They won’t be ‘active’ on Papa. We’re gonna let him go, as easy as possible.


That night Liza and I went back to Papa’s house and tidied it up-to prepare for the visitors for the kapan and pengkebumian ceremony.

Carpets rolled, Papa’s belongings’ put aside, the TV covered with cloth, the floor swept.

‘Assalamualaikum’ was a neighbour’s voice.

‘How is Papa?’

I kept quiet and kept on tidying. Liza did all the answering.

It’s funny that I am still numb. I kept on tidying.

Then I had my shower.

I took my clothes.

We left again for Kajang Hospital.


Later that night, Aziz came.

More people came.

Yassin was recited.

I think I slept in between. Or maybe I didn’t.

Another night in the hospital.