Happy Birthday, abah. I miss you.

I could say that it was a weekend of accidents.

We went back to my in-law's house for hubby's cousin's wedding ceremony on Friday's night and was caught in a 10km-long traffic jam, due to an ice lorry from the opposite side of the road skidded off and crushed two cars on our lane. By the time we arrived at the accident spot the road was already cleared. May Allah have mercy on those souls. The usual 2.5 hours trip became almost 4 hours.

On our way back, there was an accident involving 5 cars. I didn't dare to peek outside the window to see how bad it was but hubby said there was only one car left on the emergency lane; the rest have all been cleared. The back of the car was totally smashed, windows crashed into pieces, stuffs from the back seat was crushed and pushed into the car, I could see a pink pillow amidst the chaos of broken things, still embedded at the back dashboard. I forced myself not to look too closely since I didn't want to see any blood (if there was any). 

I always remember how mama always say abah doesn't want us to see any view of accidents in case we happen to be nearby, but even then abah didn't mind to share some gruesome photos that was pinned on the whiteboard in his office - pictures of crime evidences - of chopped hands, blood stains on the floor, white powder scattered around the crime scene, while he was in the Narcotic Department. At that time I didn't mind. I was proud to be a policeman's daughter, and I aimed to look like one - fearless, indifferent, cool. I managed to pull off the character until high school. Because after that, I fell in love. But perhaps some of them still remain, the coolness, the indifference towards certain things in life, but I guess I have become more attentive, interested and expressive than ever. Thanks to a husband who is always showy of his love to his family, and me.

It was pouring heavier than ever after we passed by the accident area. Hubby haven't changed the broken wipers so we had to drive slow. At certain points all cars were driving slower even on the right lane. People started to flash on hazard lights, including my husband, and when I asked why he said it is to help the motorists see clearer. He said "Poor those motorists" every time a motorcycle passed by. I could relate, it must be aching and cold and scared at the same time. Thank Allah no one on motorcycle was a child. If not, it would be most terrible to see.

Looking at the scene in front of us, I suddenly blurted out, "If Malaysia has four seasons, road riders would be more responsible." Hubby's eyes were still on the road but he asked why.

"Which one do you pity more - people who are hot or people who are cold?"

"Cold ones."

"Exactly. Imagine 4 months of winter season with this kind of heavy downpour on the road. And also the thick ice. We here have air conds in our car, they have heaters to warm them up since most of the time, it is cold."

"Aman's car has heater inside."

"Yeah, like the one in Aman's car (it is an imported model). I have always liked the idea they show us in the movies, when someone gets stranded out with no where to go, suddenly knocked on a door and a kind lady opened it, seeing a freezing person outside, rushing them to come into the house, putting onto them a blanket and offered them hot chocolate to warm them up. Before I went to Australia, I never really understood how cold it could be. Being cold can be very miserable and pitiful."

"And seeing how the cars have became really concerned towards motorcyclists here, giving away hazard lights to guide them during this bad weather, having pity thoughts and suddenly became more concerned of other people's safety - don't that earn us some merits, albeit the rain? It's like, we are all one - humans - against a bigger force - the weather - and we all unite to keep each others safe."

Suddenly I thought about my own thinking, this is legend.

My husband has long been lost inside his own thoughts, but he listens nevertheless. I myself didn't notice when I actually stopped talking and became drowned in my own thoughts as well. The rain was really powerful it did that. 

Even now all I could clearly remember from last night was the very heavy rain, and how the roads and cars and motorcycles looked when they all slowed down. And amidst that I could visualize Australia again, during the cold nights of Melbourne. The sound of the heater and the still nights when I walked pass the dryer machines room. They were so still that they were restless at the same time.

Irfan is kicking harder now, and my throat is feeling more and more burned due to perhaps haven't eaten my lunch. 

I try to postpone thinking about my family every time I am trying to eat, since I can lose my appetite so easily. It is not an easy thing to deal with when after all these years, you can't even express yourself, and when you did, everyone misunderstands you, and while you are pregnant with your first child and you are barely managing.

I always try to write what I feel but now I have became so tired of what has becoming of recent events, but I will try again some time later.

And the rest, I leave them all to You, ya Allah.

jangan lupa namaku - II

http://meniruanginmenyanyi.blogspot.com/2013/01/assalamualaikum-irfan.html

remember when mama wrote to you last year, irfan? guess what, insyaAllah you will meet abah and mama in about 2 months time (yeay!)

at seven months i never knew i could vomit like i did when i was still having my morning sickness. and for some reason i thought i needed to hear some music and alas, i picked the same song all over again, the one i have always loved to hear since the first time he asked me to listen to it.

once, when we were listening to this song together, i was sitting on the floor while he sat on a chair, and he gently pulls my head to rest onto his lap. he then caressed me slowly, and he asked me to always remember the lyrics.

and i did. i love to sing along to this song but there were times when i just listen to it, without making a sound, like really listen. and what i hear is his voice, his words. 

abah loves mama so much, irfan.

and after all the years that mama have waited for abah to finish his degree, seeing abah only on weekends and holidays, bearing the pain of separation, while carrying you sometimes mama feel so alone and abah said 'irfan kan ada teman anje :)' and then you kicked inside mama, which is one of the best feelings in the world. and mama can put the smiley after the words right there because mama knows abah always smiled when he said those words.

but now alhamdulillah, alhamdulillah, all praises to Allah, abah has successfully finished his degree and is staying with us, irfan. a new episode begins.

we can't wait to start preparing for your arrival, and lets together pray for our family's happiness, longevity and blessings from Allah, shall we? mama loves irfan and abah irfan so, so much only Allah knows :)

qilaamir.tumblr.com

ハグとニーナ

I got to spend some time with my laptop these few nights.

All I can say is,
you need to take some time off for yourself once in a while.
you need to create space with your beloved half, family and work that have encapsulated you.
you need to just.be.you.

I used to sleep late.
I used to have teary eyes, with or without reason.
I used to listen to yawarakana jikan to sleep.
I used to befriend strangers.
And these strangers, whom some I have never met, have changed my life forever.
I used to just look from afar.
I used to be detached from others, and learnt to enjoy things as they are, with no expectations.
I had a lot of dreams. And nightmares too.
I used to keep my lips tight when I actually have amount of stories to tell,
And be contented simply by praying hard.
I used to be able to workout everyday,
dieting on Pepsi Max, Lays & Shin Ramen.
I used to feel very empty, but always accompanied.
I used to want less,
But I did a lot by myself.
I used to have a lot of me-time, and-
I used to be close to You more than anything.

And after years of living with other people,
working like I'm in sure hell,
and almost losing myself,

I miss me too bad.
Too bad that I almost cried when I realized how far I have been displaced from myself,
from being me.
I then knew that no matter how good my life has developed whilst surrounded by very awesome people,
no matter how important a career woman I have become,

I still miss me.
To be drawn deep into a heart of longing for reminiscence, ponders and wonders.
To be lost in the yellowy of summer, grinning,
or to struggle with clenching teeth, almost hating winter.
To snap endless photos of spring, imagining how it would be like to be able to capture the songs of the flowers too.
Or to walk alone after a stressful test in fall, relieved, squeezing the dead leaves and watching them blown onto the side of the road.

.Me.

I'm looking for myself again.

Shang Ri Lo

The sun shone intermittently into the panes of our bedroom's window, it looks more like a summer day then. Inside, I was laying on my back doing some cycling, it has been a long while since I last exercise at home. This is probably the first in about six months.

I was listening to the now-became-mundane song from my iPod. It was mio nemico. Somehow, peculiarly enough, I tried to dive into the song again. Maybe because I had to, since I haven't updated my songs list. Or maybe because I was just trying to relive the past.

Even so, when I looked up at the ceiling, the view was stunning. The sun rays gave life to the spinning fan, making it looked like a very big daisy. With the breezing wind, I felt like I was blanketed by it.

It was the first bright insight in ages; I could feel myself soaked in me again after so long. The fact that I had that perspicacity, that personification element in that tiny bedroom shocked me that it didn't tear my eyes. I was simply shocked that I still had it in me.

I guess then I don't easily vanished just because my life has changed.

I would love it so much to write more, to observe and be able to describe things more like I do, to see from my own eyes, to sing more, to cycle more, to exercise more. Because I become alive when I do.

And I miss Australia ever more. Ever more.

Pepsi Twist instead of my all-time favourite Pepsi Max

I may say that it is the post-sickness syndrome.

11 hours straight of sleep and now I feel like doing everything I can get my hands to. Washing the clothes, having a great breakfast, cleaning the room, writing my blog.

I always experience this after I recover from painful sickness; a fever, or a severe headache. Amid the crazy workload in the office, it struck me of what my husband said - Perhaps this is the only way that I might finally have some rest.

And it worked. It had been quite a long time since I feel this energetic.

I was fasting yesterday, and the pounding headache started just after I went out from the subway into the office building. And it built up since; I felt as if I wanted to drill a hole into my head. I tried to sleep, but that only worked for an hour or two. After that, I found myself kneeling on the floor, looking down to avoid the lights, and crying, because I didn't know what else to do.

I vomited green at nearly 5 o'clock in the afternoon. I texted my husband; "I'm going to the clinic; I can't take it anymore."

It was a brief meeting with the doctor, she prescribed me Cefargot with a smile, telling me I should be okay by the morning. "Migraine? But I have never had it before," I conflicted, but she just said, "Well, it can develop." And showed me the way out.

Later when I told my husband that the doctor prescribed me Cefargot, he said the doctor was wrong. We knew better; it was the insane workload, the restless hours, the worries of due dates that drawn my body to sickness. And I guess we were right; I am now okay with only painkillers. I didn't take any Cefargot. I had a feeling that taking those pills will make me sick again, next time with an actual migraine.

I have always hated this clinic. The doctors seemed to be more like machines rather than doctors. I overheard a conversation between the clinic attendant and a foreigner. She should have had an appointment yesterday afternoon, but the clinic had to cancel it, so they called this lady to say so. Thing is, she wasn't able to pick up the call, and presumed that it was nothing so she continued to go to the clinic as planned.

She arrived at the clinic having the clinic TA telling her that the appointment had actually been cancelled. She was devastated and asked why didn't she be informed about it. The clinic TA claimed that they had actually called her to tell her about the cancellation.

"How many times did you call me? I have only one miscall. In my country, the clinic will call many times to make sure the patient is well informed."

The clinic TA fell silent. The lady then shook her head and went out.

Well, I dig her enough. But I wasn't really listening; my head was pounding too hard. At about 5.45 o'clock, my husband came to pick me home.

I wanted to eat beef porridge to break fast, so we went to look for one, much to my disappointment, though.

While my husband ordered chicken rice at a Chinese Muslim restaurant, I waited in the car, viewing the world passing through outside the car window. I looked, and wondered; why is it that most of the time I never get to eat what I actually wanted at the time? I really wanted to eat beef porridge, and I was fasting, AND I was not feeling well. I ought to get what I wanted, right? Is it too hard a request?

I was almost crying, when I realized,

Perhaps this is what Allah wants. Perhaps He wants to teach me that His wills are far better than my desires. Perhaps He wants me to align my desires to His wills.

Oh Allah, then, I will eat what You pleases me to eat. Whatever You have decided for me, they are all the best, because You always know better.

It was a teary realization, but it had put my heart at ease. And I cannot thank You enough, my Lord. Alhamdulillah.

Now, off for some clothes hanging business! :)