Eidul Adha. Alone, I sat with my eyes closed, imagining that I was among the fortunate pilgrims performing their hajj in the holy land. Images of sheep, goats, cows and camels awaiting to be sacrificed flashed in my mind. All too familiar, yet so vague.
Pre-Eidul Adha, I couldn't help thinking: How do we celebrate Eid this year, without our beloved, in a land far far away? A year ago, we celebrated both Eidul Fitri and Adha very quietly, but happily together. This was what I wrote about Eidul Adha last year.
This year, determined that I am going to try my best to give my children a good celebration, I planned out to cook a feast. A thoughtful friend had asked two days earlier, what our plans were for eid. Plans? What plans? What could I possibly plan? So I then decided to invite some friends over because I know if I didn't, no one would come. Don't ask me why though, because I don't have the answer.
Although the day started dull and unpromising, the meaning of the celebration itself started to carve out on its own. The children down the road came first and with mine, they all howled together and almost brought the house down. Soon after, I had 4 families come to share a little bit of their time with our family. And, I then realised the meaning of sacrifice.
By the end of the day, Little D was already asleep on the sofa, in his new T-shirt he got from one of our dear guests. In no time, even Princess dozed off with her head on my lap. I tidied up the dishes and went to the kitchen smiling... Ah, just when I was beginning to wonder whether it was really eid, everything changed. I was left with only half a bowl of chicken soto. The frankfurter rolls, cheese sausages, mini doughnuts, and trifle were all gone! Alhamdulillah.
There are many things that we have to sacrifice in our lives. Somehow, I feel that iin a way, Mr D had sacrificed himself for us... And I am pausing to reflect...