Two years ago

Asyhadu an laa ilaha Ilallaah... wa asyhadu anna Muhammadarrasulullah...

I incessantly whispered this in his left ear while his mother whispered in the right once his breathing pattern changed. They were slow and heavy. In a matter of minutes, he was already gone...

I can play this scene repeatedly in my mind. Or perhaps the scenes of the past few days or weeks. Two years ago, today - 18th Syawal, he returned to our Creator.

I have no regrets but the human in me can't help feeling the lost of a man so close. So with every pain or flashback that I have, I probe for lessons to be learnt. What did he do right that made it easy for him? What have I gained from the experience? What have I done to prepare for death?

Everything here is not ours to claim, but the ownership belongs to the Almighty.

(Apologies for a sombre post!)

The Move

I'm attempting to type this in between piles of boxes, baskets and bags of all sorts. Let's hope I can quickly get this done and published. If I don't get to finish this, you'll know that it's probably because I can no longer balance this notebook on the whole pile, forcing it to snap close or whatever... ;)

(picture taken from: www.arenamagazine.co.uk)
We're moving out and I'm filled with a mixture of emotions. Yes, there were sleepless nights, followed by headaches, backaches and heartaches for the past month. I'm not being sentimental about the memories I had with him here because I'm too practical to feel just that (yeah, sure!). Of course there were beautiful memories of us transforming this dilapidated house into our love nest albeit this wasn't the house that Mr D built. My anxiety to move out is more of the fear of uprooting and settling down on my own. The things to pack - what do I do with his things? Honey, what should we do with this? The loading - 'if only he were here...' The new place - where's my handyman? Where do I put this, this and that?

When we moved into this house, my man spent hours making up the toilet, attempting to improve on the minute kitchen, laying out new carpets over the dingy fitted ones, etc. Hence, there is that constant question at the back of my mind: who's going to help me when we get to the new house?

This is where the blessings of the Almighty is extended to us. I've got friends who have offered a hand and vans on the big day. I've also hinted for help in repairing and setting up some things around the house. Thus, all will be well, InsyaAllah.

Many have asked the reason for the move but it's perhaps best to say that it's just for the better. Many a times has the thought of moving out to a better place (perhaps one a little warmer and with a slightly bigger kitchen) struck my mind, but there was no way I'd get another place offering the same rate. So, I persevered and I told the children to hold on. My landlord's personal problem now is therefore just a reason for us to take the big step out of this house! Here we go!!

As reluctant and hesitant as I am about the move, I'm taking all this good-naturedly. It's hijrah. It is and will be better for us all, God willing. But I can't help feeling the irony of it all - we're moving into the house he had initially booked two years ago... Perhaps it really is fated?! Is it, Cayang?

Fun For Fathers Evening II

Last week
The story-telling session had just ended and Mrs M was distributing a leaflet about the next Fun For Fathers event and was encouraging all to come.

From the back of the room (parents are involved) I heard Little D ask, Can I come with my mom?

Oh, yes, of course, D. You can come with your dad, uncle, granddad, brother, uncle or even your mom.

Little D hurried over to me, with a worried look in his eyes. Can I go next week? Mrs M says I can come with you!

I smiled and nodded.

Today

Little D had his schedule full today. After school, he had his dance club. Then, approximately an hour later, he went for his kelas mengaji. I asked to be excused early so that he could attend the FFF thingy. The older kids asked a million questions and offered statements including this: But you can't go, Mama!

I assured them that Little D had asked the teacher himself and all will be fine; provided the boys came with us because they were, after all, Little D's male carers.

Off we marched in the dark (it started at 6pm) and upon arrival at the school gates, I buzzed on the intercom (gates were all locked and they had cameras on the intercom as well). When I heard a lady's voice asking about us, I said that we were there for the Fun for Fathers evening. This is what I got:

I'm sorry but it's only for fathers.

Dang! My voice must have sounded feminine or was it my scarf that gave away the secret? My head went blank for a second, but managed to answer,

Er.. but we don't have a father! I could feel the heat rise in my face - of insult, humiliation and anger.

Oh, is that Z and H's mom?

Imagine the agony of being recognised as the forlorn widow who is perhaps the talk of the school. Nonetheless, I hissed, Yesssss....

Okay, come on in!

Thank you! I shouted through the intercom.

And the gate buzzed open while we sneaked in.

At the front door, the Head Teacher greeted us - the same woman who helped us and also made my life more difficult and miserable on a few occasions.

In the hall, it was awkward when eyes stung into you. I noticed a few more civilised parents being polite by not looking into our direction. Correction - MY direction. There was, however, an annoying man who was probably wondering why we didn't have an adult man with us. That was acceptable, but oh boy, he sure didn't know how much I felt like going up to him and poking his eyeballs out!! Hehehe...

All in all, Little D enjoyed the evening so much as Abang H and Z built him a super cool wooden boat with sails. Mind you, no dads or granddads were as creative as those 11-year olds! Little D also had his sister make him a puppet, and his mom to make him a mask.

In retrospect, however, I hope that was the last FFF evening the school is having for the year! (though I sense there'll be another one next term)

When the date of birth is the same as the date of death

In the last entry, I stated the mark of a hijrah year of the demise of my late husband. Today, I am writing to indicate the date as on the gregorian calendar: his date of birth, and his date of death. Significant? Perhaps, but it is just another date, a coincidence.

The children (especially Princess) remember their daddy's date of birth without requiring me to prompt them. This was the dialogue Little D and I had during the weekend:

Mommy, can you bake a cake on Abah's birthday?

Er... I guess so - I can bake you a cake any day, you know? But Abah's no longer with us. How do we celebrate a birthday if the person is no longer alive?

We can bring the cake to the graveyard and eat the cake there. Then, we can cut a slice and leave it there for Abah.

(The whole room breaks into laughter)

Dean, you know that is a waste of time and good cake, don't you? The cake is for us - the living. You know Abah can't have it. What more, such action is just like what the non-Muslims do: offering food and other material objects to the dead or to their so-called god. Muslims don't do that. We can instead read the Yaasin together as a present for Abah, okay?

Okay, mommy... And he smiles sheepishly, But we can still have the cake, right?

And with that, I had to deal with a set of other encyclopaedic questions...

Al-fatihah

No tahlils.

Just a request for a piece of Al-fatihah for the prophet Muhammad (pbuh), his companions, all Muslims, including our family members and to add to that, also for my late husband, Hazlishah Abdul Hamid.

Today marks one hijrah year of the demise of my soul mate, my everything...

To dwell in forlorn I shall not, but to be reminded of how fragile and temporary life is - I shall continue, as it is what keeps me prepared for the hereafter. Every single experience, be it black, white, or shades of grey, will be compiled and loosely kept safely in the attic of my mind. The back-up (my memory may probably not exceed 4GB - *chuckle!) will be of photos, letters, cards, memorabilia, and of course, the most obvious of all - the evidence of his DNA in the progeny that I have been blessed with!

As I sit reminiscing the wonderful things he did to me, and with me, I know that these are the tales I have to share with my children, because I would surely love them to grow up embracing the good qualities and traits of their dad. Already, I can see Abang Z very much like his father - responsible and a clean-freak (does a great job vacuuming!) while Abang H: the handyman in the house. Even when their daddy was still around, Princess has always associated herself with her daddy: "I am daddy's child because I have his blood(B+), while the rest of you have mommy's blood (O) - you're all mommy's children!" (she had to undergo a blood transfusion procedure on her third day alive as her blood was incompatible to mine). And yes, it was as simple as that. There are other insignificant yet ironically eminent features each of us still hold on to, such as daddy's likes and dislikes ( "I love eating bananas and so did daddy" ). They bicker and challenge one another to see who is more similar to their dad. And I think it is a brilliant way of remembering their dad's character.

At times, Little D does find himself a bit lost as he didn't quite have his dad around as long as the others did. More so, his young memory often fails him. Hence, you'd often more than not get him cajoling, "Did daddy use to like this, like me?"

If I should pray and seek His guidance,

"Give me O the Lord who generously gives, of Knowledge and Hikmah,

bless me the rezki O the Lord who is generous with His rezki, ease it for me",

then I will use the knowledge He has bestowed me with, to endeavour a life as a Muslimah, following the true Deen.

Yup, we are catapulting into the future by using the wonderful and blessful life we once shared together. There used to be 6 but now we're one short (yet we're still walking tall), as the Malay rhyme/song of Sepuluh Budak Hitam (Ten black boys -err, and we're not being racist here!) goes:

Enam budak hitam makan buah delima,
Satu tertelan biji, tinggal lagi lima.

(Six black boys ate some pomegranates,

One choked on the seed, and then five were left.)

Ponder upon the message behind the song: no matter how many we start off with, each of us will return to our Creator one day (Oh, Little D asked me earlier today why he had only 3 siblings. I asked him how many he wanted there to be and he said: A HUNDRED! Impossible mate, sheer impossible!!).

As I was saying, Al-fatihah...

Eid anecdotes

Eid (Hari Raya) in Coventry

A week prior to Eid, I planned out how ours was going to be - just to keep positive, and away from emotions, sadness and sorrow. For the children's sakes, I want Eid to be symbolic and significant - a celebration ending a month's fasting and appreciating. It is a time to visit other Muslim brothers and sisters, to rejoice the ukhuwwah and silaturrahim. Caution must be taken to ensure that Eid is not the time to make up for the month-long food and drink deprivation. Eating is secondary, whilst building on friendship is more crucial.

Alhamdulillah, we managed to make the best of the Eid. Early in the morning, I started cling-clanging in the kitchen, and fussed over the kids to perform their sunat Eid showers. Then, I dropped the twin boys at the mosque for their Eid prayers (clad in baju melayu minus samping, donning the kopiah instead of the songkok - malu lah, they say), only coming back to pick them up after I took my own shower.

On the first day, we visited four families, and had six families over. It was good having guests over. I love entertaining, though I'm not much of a host. Somehow, when people care to drop by, I value it so much because it actually carries a lot of underlying meaning and significance. So, thank you to kind visitors who came on the first day and the second, and InsyaAllah more during the weekend.

Eid at the cemetery

Mommy, didn't we just go on Sunday? Why are we going to visit Abah again?

Because it's Raya, my dear. It's a special day so we also visit Abah on special days, ok?

We always try to go to the cemetery every week, unless the weather's too horrible: too cold or wet. I strongly feel that the children need to be reminded and to see their daddy's burial ground. Don't get me wrong, regardless of the visits, we read our Fatihah for him all the time, and the Yaasin too (I read at least twice a day). Every time we go, we'd have a 'reporting session' before leaving. Each of us would have a turn to say anything to him, if he were still around. That way, we'd not be bottling our emotions up and also we'd be able to express things deep inside us.

I think I'm the one who often finds it the most difficult to say out what's in my head. And during most visits, I'd have tears streaking my cheeks.

If you heard Little D 'talking' to his daddy, I'm sure you'd be needing a tissue. His remarks and questions are so innocent and heart-wrenching. Even a simple, "I love you" or "We miss you" from one of the four just touches me. When we were leaving recently, Little D was waving and shouting out, "Bye-bye Abah" for a good 15 metres or so.

Writer continues with more pausing and reflecting ... but thinks they are too disturbing to be shared with the public.

Just another day..

I've turned 36. No longer half-past thirty, like the Cookie Monstah of Kaypo Klub would say. It's already tilting toward the big four-oh. Hence, it's the late thirties. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy...

36 has always been a pretty scary number for me. My late mom passed away when she was 36. So did Lady Diana.

What an introduction. Forgive me. Let's do this again.

I extend my appreciation to the Almighty for awarding me 36 years of life - to breathe in the oxygen He supplies us with, to walk and run all over the planet He creates, to eat and drink His produce, to experience the wonderful pleasures of life He plots, and most of all, to be blessed with His rahmah every day.

My day was not fantastic, but Alhamdulillah, I'm still here to share my tale.

If I could nominate the best day in Coventry for the month of April this year, it would definitely have to be today, the 26th. The sun put on his brightest smile and cast the warmest spell on us all! I started the day with the intention of baking a cake but discovered I've run out of castor sugar (&^%$#$&!!). It's tradition - every birthday MUST have a cake, or cakes, in the case of cupcakes. Although those cakes in the shops look beautiful, they don't really taste that way. Most of them are way too sweet. So, no castor sugar meant no cake for breakfast this morning. I fixed some pasta for them kiddies instead.

The first phone call I received today was from Kak Teh - a little bit concerned about me (re last post), but I reassured her that I was fine. Really, InsyaAllah I am. Felt nice to know that I had a concerned friend somewhere though I didn't tell her that I probably felt the way I did because it was my birthday today. HeHe...

In the afternoon, after the kids' Fardhu Ain classes, brought them out to the city centre - stopping by at the park to say hello to the swans and ducks. Got some errands done, and grabbed some roses off the stand. Me being the romantic fool, had thought the night before of getting some roses on my birthday, just as a reminder of that bouquet that was delivered to me on the first birthday I celebrated in love with the late Mr D. And from the bunch I bought, I'd take one stalk (not all...) to put on Mr D's grave. And that was where we went next.

At the grave yard, I couldn't retain the emotions. Thank god for the invention of sunglasses, at least the kids didn't notice that I was crying only till much later! We had a small tahlil together, and as usual, had a session of short speeches to dear Abah. Everyone said how they missed and loved their daddy. Little D 'told' his daddy about his trip to Dublin - the deers he saw, the kite he flew, and the swans he fed. My Princess whispered to me that she wanted to say it was her birthday next. Abang Z didn't have much to say, unlike Abang H, who immediately said, 'I love you'. I reminded the kids that we had to try very hard to make ends meet and to be the best at what we did, as that would have been what their daddy wanted. And we pray on...

We left, and headed home. I recalled the castor sugar I had to get, so made a quick stop at Sainsbury's. But lo and behold, as I was leaving the parking lot, my troubled mind (yes, I can distinctively remember what I was thinking about at that time!) distracted me - BANG! - I hit a car!

I parked the car at a more strategic location, and the other car pulled over next to mine. A lady came out. And boy, was she a wonderful woman indeed! The first thing she asked was, How are you? Are you okay? The accident was entirely my fault - no contest to it. I had looked right, looked left - waited a while, then, without looking back to my right, went straight ahead to turn right! The front (left) part of the car was pretty much smashed. I apologized profusely to the lady, and gave my details. I also told her I didn't know what to do or where to start because it was usually my husband who helped me in issues pertaining to cars. And that was when the tears rolled down my cheeks. Embarrassed, I told her that my husband had passed away and I then apologized for crying in front of her! I could feel my hands trembling and my heart shuddering. She saw how shook up I was, and offered to sit down for some tea but I had put this woman to too much trouble already. I didn't want to trouble her more. Hence I politely turned down the offer, and told her that I'd sit down in the car for a while, till my nerves were a little bit better.

In the car, I broke down. The kids sat quietly, not knowing what to do. After a good 5-10 minutes, I wiped the tears off and drove back home - it was only a few minutes away.

Got home, all still quite shaken up, went to the kitchen to prepare the kids some tea. The day was warm and sunny, so I suggested that they sat in the backyard to chill. I had to go and lie down. I excused myself, and went to perform my prayers - thanking Allah that despite what happened, we were all fine. Little D then came up to me, "Mummy, are you finished? Come down with me..." I did not have the heart to tell him that I didn't feel too well and needed a lie down. So, I followed him out into the backyard - for their wonderful surprise for me! There were 4 cards laid out - 3 handmade and 1 bought (of course, that's from Princess). A nicely wrapped gift was thrusted into my hands. I was impressed! Yeah, a few days ago, Princess requested that I brought her to Tesco because she had something to buy (for me). I had to go through the same thing I went through during Mother's Day.

Anyway, the wonderfully wrapped gift actually came with a small bundle of matching ribbons. "Mama, I actually don't know how to tie the ribbon on the gift - can you pleaaaassssseeeee do it for me?" exclaimed Abang Z. Oh, wasn't that cute? So, I fiddled with the ribbon and managed to make a simple tie-up. Then, I took them apart - to be surprised (was indeed really!) with a spiral notebook. HeHeHe... Yes, I'm a sucker for notebooks (just like Princess), but surely... Aren't my chidren just sooo wonderful?

Then, Dina called, saying she was on her way over with her new boyfriend (new because I hadn't met him). Suddenly, I realised I didn't have anything to serve and was NOT in the mood to prepare anything! So, I went on with the initial plan to bake a cake. While it was still in the oven, Dina arrived. Surprise, surprise!! She brought a cake for me! Woo hoo... And I was lucky enough to have some great company to share not only one cake, but TWO cakes with us.

Ergo, by the end of the day, I feel blessed with the life I have now. It may not be perfect, it may not be all wonderful, and it may not be even close to brilliant. BUT, the day could have turned out worse. I am fortunate to have beautiful children who are just the best at surprises and making others feel special. They really made me feel special. Thank you my darlings...

I received calls from my Dad and sis, wishing me Happy Birthday. A very thoughtful birthday email from my other sis, and tens of wishes via the net (FB, emails and chats) and mobile (texts). There were also a few who actually remembered my birthday simply from the post I wrote regarding my birthday last year!! Fantastic or what?

If one asked me to comment how I feel being 36, I must say that 36 years is quite a significant amount of time. Enough to experience a little of everything (not really), and enough to enjoy so much too. In the 36 years, I have lost so many loved ones, but also gained so many others. With me now, I am blessed with 4 wonderful children who will be the essence of my life.

What lies ahead is a road forking out at each possible junction. I am carrying the torch Allah has entrusted me with, and I will carry it with me on this journey.

A birthday is just another day - a milestone that you've gone through a year successfully (or not). No big deal at all. Not even if you miss some people so much, that you hope they were next to you...

More tomorrow: the big hearts those kids of mine have

I so miss him!

It's not as easy as it sounds. I promised myself never to fall into the pit. But since after my 'Iddah, this is the second time I've been in this darkness.

Perhaps it's the weather. Or maybe it's that certain something that's been lingering and pounding in my head? Or maybe it's just the hormones? Better still, it's perhaps because I feel sooooo lonely? I personally think it's because of tomorrow. (Watch this space for development!)

Of late, I've been spending some time reading translations of the Quran and some religious books and websites (I've also been listening to Kaer's "Biarkanku pergi" and watching the tribute to him on YouTube). The issue most appealing in my readings is death; the importance of always keeping death in the mind, and just being physically close to whatever that reminds you of it,is ibadah itself. It may sound morbid and pathetic, but this is so that we remember life is temporary, hence we should work hard in our ibadah to ensure that we'd be prepared for it. I know I should be moving on to greener pastures, and move on with only good and positive memories of the late Mr D. However, it's the good memories I miss that's been pulling me down.

I can close my eyes and picture him laughing in front of the telly, watching American Idol (I have only seen bits of two episodes of American Idol this season..). Or, I can close my eyes and see him staring at me with a smile on his face. Everything is still very clearly sketched in my mind.

I am not drowning in sorrow (okay, maybe I am a little), but I'm just saying that I miss him. I used to have my best friend with me when I was feeling low. But this time, the schedule's tight and there are deadlines to meet. So, without my best friend, I sob my eyes out (in phases since this morning) remembering the man I shared so many years and things together with. Have no fear, Allah is always here!!

A friend's prayer

When I went back to the office a few weeks ago, some of my colleagues who were close friends, came and offered me hugs and kind words. Debbie told me that she prayed for me every time she went to church, and Jill said something similar. In fact, Jill wrote me the prayer she read for Mr D. I am therefore putting it up here, to be shared with others.

He is gone.

You can shed tears that he is gone
Or you can smile because he lived.

You can close your eyes and pray that he will come back
Or you can open your eyes and see all that he has left.

Your heart can be empty because you can't see him

Or you can be full of the love that you shared.

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.

You can remember him and only that he is gone
Or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.

You can cry and close your mind, be empty, turn your back,
Or you can smile, open your eyes, love and go on.

A love story thirteen years ago...

I don't remember the exact date, but I first knew the late Mr D some time thirteen years ago, in 1994. I think the courting and wooing period was stretched quite a bit because yours truly is not good in establishing relationships. I had never been in a relationship before and the only explanation to it is that I'm a big coward. Of course, the idea of having a boyfriend is far-fetching, but whenever a friend approaches, I'd usually put on my running shoes and flee!!!

So, when Mr D approached me, he made his intentions clear: to start a relationship that will hopefully end in marriage. He was persistent and adamant, and somehow, he managed to capture my heart. If I recall correctly, the late Mr D 'found' me when he went to Scotland during his first skiing trip. His friend A knew my friend, W, thus they went to her house. Somehow, he knew that I was in the UK (I was a junior in his secondary school), so he asked the girls if they knew me. He politely asked to look at a picture of me - which my friends kindly obliged - cheeky girls! I still remember the picture they showed him: one of the pictures taken at one of the Malaysian Nights in England (probably Kent). He even asked them for my telephone number, but only got the courage to call after a few weeks later. And that was how it started.

When we went home during the first summer holidays in 1994, he asked whether he could meet me (I had not met him in person yet). I told him, if he wanted to, he'd have to come to my house. And so he came, to meet my dad, who interrogated him like mad - poor fellow! Well, the experience did not deter him and he was even more confident than ever!

Unfortunately, the chicken in me was still there, and after we went back to the UK, I told him that I wanted to review matters. Give me some time... things were moving too fast and I needed some space. Gutted, he fled for a vacation to Europe! Gosh, how cruel was I?

However, as things were meant to be, the relationship bloomed and blossomed. Everyday, we'd write to each other - remember, via snail-mail! Well, at least in the UK you have the First Class Mail, which meant that your mail will be delivered the next day. Oh, I was in Scotland, by the way, and he was in the southern tip of England. It was a long-distance relationship but it worked for us. I don't recall what we wrote about, but the piles of letters are still kept safely in boxes back in my home in PJ. At that time, when internet wasn't as it is today, our modes of communication were only via ordinary mail and on weekends, the telephone. Yeah, the mobile phone was unheard of!

We were then engaged during the summer of 1995 and wed after our graduations in 1996. And after that, we never turned back. Well, whenever we did, it was only to reminisce the wonderful days of yesteryears...

With Mr D, all our dreams were made possible for he was a man who took risks. He planned vacations for us, and I'd often be the one hesitant and full of doubts - oh, the kids are still small, or, do we have the budget?, or, is that the best location?, etc... That's the very rational and level-headed me talking. But as I look back now, I know I have no regrets. On the contrary, I regretted being so cautious and careful.

Imagine, he dragged us all for a holiday in Hong Kong back in 2003 (after SARS), when I had just finished my 40 days' confinement. I remember walking down the lanes in Mongkok and the vendors would laugh and call each other to look at us, with our trail of children! Little D would be in a carrier in my arms, and the twins and princess, all in a row. You see, my boys are rather small in size, but my princess is tall for her age. Hence, when together, they look very much the same age! No, no, they're not triplets!! And, yes, they're all mine!

Then, there were those adventurous trips to Taman Negara (click here for post written in the past), Langkawi (where we ended investing some of our money), the east coast, the neighbouring country in the north, Thailand, and also to the land of the Pharaohs. I think we spent quite a portion of our salaries on holidays together, and those were wonderful moments I now cherish. Jet-skiing in the sea, walking along the beach during sunset, building castles in the cold mediterranean sand, snorkelling in the clear ocean, and experimenting delicious dishes in foreign lands...

The late Mr D was a man who never tired to make us happy. He believed that everything was possible. He knew that life should be enjoyed with those we love, and that was exactly what he did. He never wasted any of his time, cherishing every single moment he had with us.

The past year was the most wonderful year we had spent together - without any boundaries, and without any limits. He rushed home to spend his quality time with the kids, performing the jamaah prayers together, and teaching the kids all sorts of tricks up his sleeves. For that, I thank the Almighty, for perfecting our family...

In the last few weeks I spent with him, the amount of love he felt for me touched me deep within. He had only wanted to eat when I fed him; an act I felt most honoured in doing. Eleven years of marriage, and it was all filled with utmost satisfaction. He had promised me two things in the beginning: to gradually add on to our religious deeds together, and to stay deeply in love till the end of our lives. And Alhamdulillah, he kept to his words...

So, even though there will no more be Pizza Lie..., no more Tony Buzan memory moments, and no more magic tricks from their great daddy, we will definitely keep those memories in mind for those were the things that make us the people we are today. It all started with love, and the love will be kept alive in our minds.

Upon reflection, I realise that one main mistake I had allowed myself to make when I married the late Mr D eleven years ago, was to believe that he was all mine. For 24 years, I had lived without really having someone who belonged to me. I had mom, but she was taken back by our Creator when I was four. I had sisters, but they were either off studying somewhere, or later, married. I had an only brother, but he too followed my mom. My dad was the person I was closest to but surely, that was different. Naturally, when Mr D came into my life, I appreciated him to bits.

But today, I am reminded through the hard way that nothing in this world belongs to us. It will all return to its Creator, and that is a different love altogether...

thank you Allah

Thank you Allah, for giving me the strength that I have today.Thank youAllah, for blessing me with people who care enough to share with me their thoughts and ideas, even though some may contradict mine. Thank you Allah,for choosing us to be tested upon. Thank you Allah, for giving my dearest husband 38 years of life, of which I share a portion with... 29th October is Mr D's birthday and today, he turns 38. I have no plan of action for Mr D's birthday today. Yesterday,the twins picked a carrot cake from the shops (Twin H had been eyeing this for long!)and a pack of four mini Haagen Dazs ice-creams. I also threw in a pair of house-slippers into our shopping basket. I didn't know what else to get him.Birthday gifts always pose a problem to me, not knowing what the best choice is . Ever since we knew each other, if asked what I wanted for my birthday, Mr D would know what I'd say, "to have more of you each day". I knew that that wasn't what he wanted to hear,but that always remains the truth. As a matter of fact, I even made a bargain at the beginning of our relationship that birthdays should not be made too material. It is okay to not give gifts or shower one with the most expensive item ormost wanted object. A birthday should be celebrated with love and affection deep within the heart, with praises to the Almighty for letting us live yet another year together,as servants to Him. Yesterday, a representative from ex-SMAWPians arrived with her family. They came with sincerest du'as, enveloped in a wealth ofsupport from all our friends from back home. Thank you very much everyone... Today, my brother-in-law from Kuching is arriving, following a request from Mr D himself. We seek his assistance in helping Mr D gain his strength physically and spiritually. Tomorrow, my father from Petaling Jaya will be arriving to give us the support we need and on Thursday, Mr D's one and only brother will be arriving from Shah Alam. Again, I thank Allah for everything that you have given us... *PS: there's either something wrong with blogger or my computer, but getting this entry right has been very difficult. I've lost the original opening paragraph, and another paragraph... still, isn't this another form of test?

While I was in hiatus...

Mr D was given a syringe driver up his arm which functions better than the oral doses of morphine and anti-sickness pills. This happened yesterday evening (Thursday), with the help from the Macmillan nurse and district nurses. Ever since, he has been more comfortable - no more pains in the back and only once vomitting by this morning.


I am here with a quickie - to update concerned friends from afar. I know some may have tried to get in touch in me earlier today when I was at the hospital but the battery to my mobile went flat. FINALLY, the doctor had another ultra-sound and discovered that there's fluid in Mr D's tummy. Unfortunately, Mr D's blood needs some supply of Vitamin K (through drips) in order to have the fluid drained. Hence, he is admitted in the hospital tonight. Hopefully, things will be better so that he can come home tomorrow.

I'm off from work this week because it is term-break and initially thought that this would be the time to catch up with everything that's been on hold. However, this is also the time used caring for and being with Mr D. Mind you, term-break also means school holidays. Imagine a house filled with four bored children who try to amuse themselves with screaming, shouting, running, crying, singing and fighting.


In between juggling all these, I am also reading a book sent by my dear sis: Don't be Sad, by 'Aaidh ibn Abdullah al-Qarni. I like the book because it strengthens my own belief and principles in this life as a Muslim.

It isn't easy managing a cancer patient, just like those who have gone through often say. The mixture of pain and emotion that he is experiencing is made worst with the effect of drugs. Only in the Almighty do we seek assistance...

ps: In the next entry, I hope to put up my dear's latest picture.

Managing at home

Yesterday, I brought Mr D to a herbal practitioner. It was his request. He wanted to have an accupuncture session to relieve the bloating in his tummy. Well, the doctors couldn't do anything about it, so we're turning to various different forms of alternative treatments. The accupuncture sessions are not meant to cure the cancer, but only to help ease him from the discomfort he's experiencing.

Today, we're expecting his new bed to be sent in. Yes, that was the first thing he requested for, when the Macmillan nurse asked what equipments we wanted. It's been months since Mr D suffered backpain, and sleeping on the spring mattress provided by the landlord has not helped at all.

It is pleasing to be informed that here in the UK, there is a good amount of support provided for cancer patients. For instance, yesterday, through the occupational therapy unit, we received:

• a bath board

• a bath seat


• a bath step modular


• a rollator frame


• a perching stool
  
• a toilet frame


• an urinal bottle

There will also be district nurses c0ming in everyday to check on Mr D. I've asked about getting a disabled sticker (he is also considered that now) but have been sent scurrying here and there like a crazy rat. The people at the hospital said to go to the GP. The GP said to ask the reception. The people at the reception said they don't know, and I'd have to come in when the Manager was in! I'll get this sorted out soon, InsyaAllah...

On a different note, I must say that I am blessed to have such wonderful people around me, Alhamdulillah. I am probably having more trouble accepting the fact that there are so many kind people offering a helping hand out there, than the news of my beloved husband's health condition. Some offer encouraging words, others offer plates of food. Some give words of advice, others give handfuls of money. Some come with smiles on their tear-streaked faces, others send text messages from afar. Some fly across the oceans from Malaysia and Qatar, others endure the long-drive on the motorway. Some scamper for the computer to check on www.pausetoreflect.blogspot.com first thing in the morning, others pick the telephone to check on the latest updates. But all in all, everyone is kind enough to give a small prayer or du'a for the best for Mr D. This is one of the biggest lesson that I have learnt - that the Almighty will always send 'somebody' to help you when you are in difficulty.

In my tahajjud prayers, the zikr that I recite at the last sujud goes like this (when translated):

"O my Lord! let my entry be by the Gate of Truth and Honor and likewise my exit by the Gate of Truth and Honor; and grant me from Thy Presence an authority to aid (me)." Surah Isra (17) verse 80.

With this, I thank the Lord for sending us well-meaning friends and relatives...

Back home

Mr D's back from the hospital. He's got his medication supply, fortified drinks and some aids to help him to move around the house. We'll have a nurse over everyday, to assist him with his medication, etc.

27 days in the hospital and we have met so many patients with cancer, all fighting the same battle. Some have given us more strength and hope. On the other hand, we've also seen some worsen throughout the weeks.

In Allah we trust and surrender...

Exclusive: Mr D's wishes - his dedication to friends worldwide

As mentioned before, my initial intention when starting this blog was to remain anonymous. However, with the turn of events, most people who frequent this blog now will know who Mr D and I are.

Mr D has asked me to put up pictures of him when he was all fine and dandy, right up to his present condition. It's like a BEFORE and AFTER thing. Friends and relatives from afar will be able to see how he looks now. For those who have never met him before, you will have an indication of how much he has physically changed.

As for me, I'm still camera shy. Well, blog-shy, to be exact! Contemplating whether I should put up my picts here. Should I?

Eid 2005, Petaling Jaya, Malaysia

August 2006, Malaysia

September 2006 ( a day before departing for UK, at cousin's house-warming party)

Coventry, February 2007
First time hospitalised in the UK: May/June 2007

First week in hospital (2nd time admitted), September 2007

Another chapter

In the midst of the rush during Eid, I have attempted to write an entry on our Eid celebration. However, I do not have the mood to finish it off as more disturbing issues have evolved. Hence, I am seeking the guidance of the Almighty to help me through this very trying moment - having to deal with so many tests from various different directions. To seek for patience and strength, and for absolute peace of mind and soul.

Mr D will be discharged this week. I will be busy preparing for his return. For now, the doctors have said that he isn't fit for chemotherapy. More updates next time, when I feel like it.

Eidul Fitri Mubarak

It's sad to think that time zooms by too fast. The holy month is almost ending, welcoming a new month with great celebrations: pots boiling on the stove, biscuits beaming in fanciful jars, new curtains hanging over gleaming windows, etc.

In a moment of reflection, let us not forget that what we have learnt throughout Ramadhan should be put to practice regardless where and when. I often tell my 10-year old sons, you refrain yourself from picking your noses (*excuse me here!) when you fast during the day. Continue with the great job even after Ramadhan. I guess it's like the smokers who can do without a cig for 12+ hours in Ramadhan, but as soon as it's over, it's back to square one!

To all friends out there, Eid Mubarak to all of you! I don't know how our Eid will be, but I think it'll be rather quiet for us. Seems like it'll be too much to 'celebrate' Syawal when your beloved is truly unwell. Already, friends have made invitations for open houses. Pity the children if we miss out but where else should we be other than by Mr D's side?

Some positive signs

When we went to see Mr D at the hospital yesterday, he was a little bit more cheerful than before. He was no longer having hiccups and hardly vomitting anymore. However, his tummy has been growing a little larger since last Thursday. On Sunday, I spoke to the doctor on duty and he had a look at it. He sent Mr D to have an X-ray but the results were not very good. Having an X-ray was not the best way of identifying the problem. We hope to see some progress today.

Anyway, as I was saying, Mr D was rather cheerful yesterday. He could eat half a plate of potatoes and beans, and gulp down his hot chocolate without any hiccups or vomits. Most importantly, he appeared brighter and more energetic. He has made requests for some home-made food from his mom!

Meanwhile, apparently, his radiotherapy is scheduled on this coming Thursday. According to the nurse, Mr D will be discharged after the therapy, and will only need to come as an outpatient for the stenting. The chemotherapy is still not yet in the picture. But from my view of his condition yesterday, I think (and hope) that it be too long a wait until he regains his strength, InsyaAllah...

Again, thank you for all well-wishes from friends all over!

Only to Him should we turn to...

Update! Update! Update!! I know that's what my dear friends out there are chanting. I had one person who called from Dubai and two from Malaysia, a few more from all over the globe texting me messages, asking whether I was fine and why I hadn't updated the blog. I also know now that husbands and wives are fighting over 'who gets to read the latest first'!! How can I thank you all enough?

******************

By today, my dearest darling has been in the hospital for 17 days. Such vast differences have taken place. When he went in on the 20th October, he was all bones - right up to the ribs. After 17 days, he is now almost all-skin. There's still some flesh in his arms, though not much. If you can imagine that, then you're great. This is especially for people who have known Mr D - from school /uni / work. My Kaypo Klub girlfriends used to refer him as huggable. Well, he's no longer that.

Mr D was supposed to have his radiotherapy session yesterday, but it never happened. Don't ask me why, because I have tried asking those who would probably have the answer. Obviously, only to be disappointed with "I'm not sure, wait for Dr X". Nonetheless, there MUST be an underlying cause behind it. Possibility 1: no slots for him. Possibility 2: they don't think he should undergo the therapy. Wallahu'alam... Will someone PLEASE tell me!!!

Last night, Dr S popped in to see how Mr D was catching on. She pulled me aside and asked me what the next step was. I think she wanted to be sure that I understood everything the oncologist said. I told her our decision: to try whatever he is fit to do; have radiotherapy on his back (only where it hurts), get the stent in (to widen the passage down the oesophagus so that he can eat better) and then once he regains some strength, go for chemo.

Somehow, S was trying to make me see that chemo is perhaps not a good idea, just as the oncologist thinks. Even with the stent in, it will take a long time for him to build up his strength. Remember, it's from skin to bones, and then, to a healthy body.

Mr D, however, is determined to fight this battle. He consents to the divine will but surely, he will not just lie idle, waiting for his time to be up. I am very proud of the strength in him. Yes, my Mr D has always been a fighter! He is one of the biggest risk-takers that I have ever known. That is why he is adamant to go through the chemo despite the horrifying side-effects that come with it. He insisted that I told him what S told me, so I put it as tactfully as possible, and gave him a hint of the gist. His eyes were blaring in anger, "Just put the stent in, and I'll eat my way through!"

At this moment of decision-making and conflict, I have only the Almighty to turn to. He knows what is best for us, and most importantly, what is best for him. Having said this, I pray hard that he is spared such agony and pain so that he can smile and be at ease.

Yesterday and today, I have observed a few improvements in Mr D's health, which I am very confident, is Allah's will, with aid from holy zam-zam and prayers from hundreds of friends. For instance, earlier this week, he'd be having hiccups throughout the day. Three sips of water or two spoons of yoghurt would result in 10 minutes of hiccups. And that's minus the vomits. These past few days the symptoms have reduced. With His will, this is the power of the zam-zam water, with some help from a respectable person (who happens to be my brother-in-law) to read verses of the Quran into the water.

Meanwhile, I can only sit and pray harder than ever.

The children

I am utterly surprised and touched at the amount of support Mr D and I have received. Friends who we have lost touch, mates we have not met for many years, acquaintances whom we thought might never think much of us, relatives who we don't even have their mobile numbers and not forgetting, fellow-bloggers who we have NEVER met, have somehow reached out to send a soothing word and prayer. Thank you again...

I must also apologize to some of my great friends of whom I have not managed to reply text messages, emails or even comments (I had 29 in the last entry!). I always try my best to respond to them, as good wishes should definitely be acknowledged. However, time is not often on my side...

A celebrity blogger, Prof mki rang me up this morning. This is what I mean by the power of technology. Never did I imagine that friendship through the blogosphere could develop into something so meaningful as this. I have received text messages from kd and mak lang too. Comments from new blog friends send a tingle down my spine and even makes me think: what message have I put across through my words that has given such an impact on people - so caring and understanding?

I have just come home from the hospital with my in-laws. Together with my sister, nephew and niece, they arrived safely this afternoon. Dr S' husband and dear Abang F were kind enough to fetch and bring them to our humble home. The children are happy to suddenly be surrounded by family. Our visitors have brought some delights from home which has definitely put smiles on the children's faces. Initially, I had made big plans to bake Raya cookies, but since the turn of event, I thought, "aaaah.. it'll probably be packet biscuits from the supermarket this year." Now, I have enough kuih raya to last us the whole of Syawal!! They come from my sisters, step-sisters, relatives, and even mamasarah! Even old chummy R from Kuching has managed to squeeze in a cake (thank you, Rxxxxxx!).

Many people have also asked me whether my children know what is going on. They have always known that their daddy is unwell. If you recall me saying, Mr D has been in pain for so long. They have seen the tears that stream down my cheek, and sensed that something is amiss this time around. I have told them what is happening to their dad but their reactions are a little hard to decipher. Last night, I sat the three older ones down (aged 10 - the twins, and 7 - my princess). I told them what was happening and ended it with the usual words I chant daily: "Allah loves us all and He knows the very best for us, no matter what they may be."

With this, I think the children understand the situation a little bit better (though Princess tries to be funny by making ridiculous jokes). I have even told Little D about it. He seemed a little hesitant after listening to it, and asks heart-breaking questions like, "but if Abah is gone, then I wouldn't have any daddy anymore! Who's going to look after us?"

I often remind myself never to be selfish and wallow in self-pity by thinking of how I would ever cope with life without Mr D. Consenting to the divine will means to never allow such thoughts in your mind. That's my theory and I believe that this is the way to step ahead. Redha means to consent the trials that the Almighty has chosen for us. Because of that, self-pity is the poison to mental strength.

Hey, hold on a minute, no one's going anywhere, so cheer up, will ya?