Father.
Last Tuesday marked the day of my father last day on earth. He had been admitted to CCU for exactly two weeks and passed away in the morning at 7.39 am. He had multiple and major heart attacks which led to severe sepsis, kidney failure and many more. For two weeks, he was bedridden, semi conscious and very very ill.
I was with him till his final breathe. To be honest, it was not easy to be there, looking at him catching his last breathe, not knowing what he felt at that moment.
.............................................................................................................................
This post above was written a week after the death of my father.
I didn't post this because to be honest I don't know how to continue the post. Now it is almost 4 months after his death and I still think of him once in a while. The experience of witnessing death, the moment ruh left the body was something that you can't easily forget.
My father was a simple man, who had live to his fullest despite of his lack of responsibility towards family. Nonetheless, we regarded him as what he was, a father. We put zero expectation on his roles and once in a while we called him, took him out for lunch or did some quick shopping. He left no wealth to us, only meager sum of cash in his savings, no house as he lived at my aunt, no car only an old motorbike. On the bright side he left without debt and therefore almost zero problems at our side. Except that my father inherited an old shop house from my late grandmother. The shop was rented by a mamak to operate a small grocery business. It was around RM800 per month, small amount but I thought it was sufficient for him who didn't take up any loan or debt with bank.
So he basically left us with that shop house, which was the place that we grew up with. The shop house was the place that my father had spent almost entire of his lifetime, mending and taking care of the shop, assisting my grandma during their glorious years. Having said that, my siblings and I wholeheartedly decided that the monthly rental should go to my youngest adik as she's still studying in uni. I guess it was pretty clear that we are the rightful heirs and even by faraid my brother deserve it more.
Now this part is so cliche, it is so typical like our drama Melayu. So last month I received a call from an uncle, asking for the monthly rental and surprisingly had the guts by saying that my father had no right on it and the shop belongs to the sisters instead. Like seriously? It was RM800 and you want to divide it into 3-4 sisters? I just couldn't find the logic in this. I just can't understand how can someone turning into greedy and selfish human being. Clearly, the grant was on my father's name and this statement came from the elderly who lives in comfortable suburban house and monthly pension. It pissed me off, realizing how cruel one can be towards the less fortunate. Not even once, they called us asking how are we doing. Let me tell you, that old motorbike, the only transport that my father owned, we wanted to give it to one of the uncle whom we know not doing well financially, but instead the sister (read:aunt) apparently wanted to use it despite of many cars crawling in her porch.
Seriously, this pissed me off. I know that my father was mistreated badly while residing at their place. My dad didn't own a house. And now you're saying whatever he had should belong to the sisters. He didn't have a job, but my father was kind to them, never once he raised his voice despite of being ridiculed.
During the funeral, one of my aunt had the audacity to say, 'please forgive your father'. Asking that to your own niece in the middle of 'mandi jenazah', this aunt had no empathy though, she knew very well that I was the one who stood by my father on his final breathe. We held no grudge on him because we accept him for what he was, his weakness, his irresponsible self, his addiction. Whatever he was, he was still our father. When I was in Mekah, I prayed that he can take care of himself, be responsible to his own self, and Alhamdulillah at his end of life, I believe he had rekindled his relationship with the Creator. Allah made things easy for him. I am proud of his changes, and I know that Allah loves him so he took him away from us.
In the alternate universe, we could be one happy family when everyone plays the right role. None of us wanted to have a broken family. We cannot choose our family, our father, mother even siblings. But if things doesn't go accordingly we face it, accept and continue our life.
I was with him till his final breathe. To be honest, it was not easy to be there, looking at him catching his last breathe, not knowing what he felt at that moment.
.............................................................................................................................
This post above was written a week after the death of my father.
I didn't post this because to be honest I don't know how to continue the post. Now it is almost 4 months after his death and I still think of him once in a while. The experience of witnessing death, the moment ruh left the body was something that you can't easily forget.
My father was a simple man, who had live to his fullest despite of his lack of responsibility towards family. Nonetheless, we regarded him as what he was, a father. We put zero expectation on his roles and once in a while we called him, took him out for lunch or did some quick shopping. He left no wealth to us, only meager sum of cash in his savings, no house as he lived at my aunt, no car only an old motorbike. On the bright side he left without debt and therefore almost zero problems at our side. Except that my father inherited an old shop house from my late grandmother. The shop was rented by a mamak to operate a small grocery business. It was around RM800 per month, small amount but I thought it was sufficient for him who didn't take up any loan or debt with bank.
So he basically left us with that shop house, which was the place that we grew up with. The shop house was the place that my father had spent almost entire of his lifetime, mending and taking care of the shop, assisting my grandma during their glorious years. Having said that, my siblings and I wholeheartedly decided that the monthly rental should go to my youngest adik as she's still studying in uni. I guess it was pretty clear that we are the rightful heirs and even by faraid my brother deserve it more.
Now this part is so cliche, it is so typical like our drama Melayu. So last month I received a call from an uncle, asking for the monthly rental and surprisingly had the guts by saying that my father had no right on it and the shop belongs to the sisters instead. Like seriously? It was RM800 and you want to divide it into 3-4 sisters? I just couldn't find the logic in this. I just can't understand how can someone turning into greedy and selfish human being. Clearly, the grant was on my father's name and this statement came from the elderly who lives in comfortable suburban house and monthly pension. It pissed me off, realizing how cruel one can be towards the less fortunate. Not even once, they called us asking how are we doing. Let me tell you, that old motorbike, the only transport that my father owned, we wanted to give it to one of the uncle whom we know not doing well financially, but instead the sister (read:aunt) apparently wanted to use it despite of many cars crawling in her porch.
Seriously, this pissed me off. I know that my father was mistreated badly while residing at their place. My dad didn't own a house. And now you're saying whatever he had should belong to the sisters. He didn't have a job, but my father was kind to them, never once he raised his voice despite of being ridiculed.
During the funeral, one of my aunt had the audacity to say, 'please forgive your father'. Asking that to your own niece in the middle of 'mandi jenazah', this aunt had no empathy though, she knew very well that I was the one who stood by my father on his final breathe. We held no grudge on him because we accept him for what he was, his weakness, his irresponsible self, his addiction. Whatever he was, he was still our father. When I was in Mekah, I prayed that he can take care of himself, be responsible to his own self, and Alhamdulillah at his end of life, I believe he had rekindled his relationship with the Creator. Allah made things easy for him. I am proud of his changes, and I know that Allah loves him so he took him away from us.
In the alternate universe, we could be one happy family when everyone plays the right role. None of us wanted to have a broken family. We cannot choose our family, our father, mother even siblings. But if things doesn't go accordingly we face it, accept and continue our life.
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