I've been away from the computer for three days. A glimpse at it makes me snort in disgust. Why shouldn't I? It swallowed a long entry I worked on (which was approaching its end), leaving me frustrated and annoyed. All thanks to the automatic saving device!! On second thoughts, perhaps I was not meant to share what I wrote with the world...
So, today, with the kids off to school and some of my work done for the time being, I set myself to write a short entry (for fear that things will disappear again!).
The past week has been rather quiet. It has given my children and I time to really pause and reflect on all the things that have zoomed by us. It's the time to pick up the pieces and try to fit them into the space we're left with.
My inlaws (parents and brother) went back on Wednesday, 7th November, leaving the children each with a gift to amuse themselves with. And indeed, they did work as pacifiers to their emotional needs. Although Little D was quite frustrated that his grandparents were leaving before his birthday, worries and concerns were quickly shoved aside at the sight of well-wrapped presents!
The house has been back to its usual number of occupants: six. Only this time, it's the four children, myself and my dad. Although Mr D is gone forever, the house is still as it used to be; his clothes, his shoes, his books, his medication, his things, his footsteps, and most of all, his love. We feel it deep in our hearts, as if he is still living in this house with us. Perhaps, just as if he is going to walk through the door any time.
As I was walking my children to school last week, I told my daughter that I somehow felt like I was in a dream, to think that their dad had passed away.
To my surprise, she agreed with me, Yes, mom. I too feel as if I'm in a dream. I can't really believe dad is gone...
With tears welling in my eyes, I squeezed her hand in mine.
A few nights ago while we were lazing around in the living room, Little D asked, Mom, where's dad?
My father and I exchanged glances. I then turned to Little D. You know where your dad is, don't you?
He looked up at the ceiling and muttered, Yes, daddy's passed away but where is he? He's watching us, isn't he?
And so, I explained where his daddy was. Physically, his body was buried deep in the ground. Spiritually, that he is in 'Alam Barzakh, waiting to be awaken on the day of judgement, where we will all meet again, InsyaAllah.
Running through our daily chores is not as easy as it used to be. Often more than not, the same thought strikes me as I busy myself with something, Oh, wait till I tell Mr D. When I then realise that I would never be able to do that anymore. These were just tiny and insignificant incidents that we encountered daily, like a picture I might see in the newspaper that reminds me of something we both shared, or a dusty corner on the kitchen shelf. We had shared everything, and told each other every insignificant detail there was, making them all very significant. And that is something I can never share with any other friend I have. It would be too insignificant then.
Of all Mr D's possessions, one item I find extremely personal is his spectacles. He had it with him all the time. He hardly took them off, even during the last few days he was in the hospital; regardless of when he was asleep, half-asleep, or awake. If I suggested that he took them off, he'd say, leave them on, I want to see clearer, though what he wanted to see beats me. Approximately ten minutes before he left us on the 29th of October, I was somehow able to take the glasses off him. At that point, he could no longer argue with us because other than us, death was already by his side.
Slowly, I am trying to continue my journey through life with the memories and dreams that Mr D and I had. I have to make him proud of me and that is just what I'll do...