Paris!

17th May 1993

Noora, Ayu and I had always planned to go to Paris together for a short trip.  The Easter holidays were approaching, so one day after classes, we dropped by the Budget Travel in Nicholson Square and made our inquiries.  After informing the agent what we were after, the old queer man clumsily flipped over his directories and guide books.  He began picking up the telephone and scribbled what I believed was valuable information on scraps of paper.  I remember us speaking Malay under our breaths, giggling and joking as we waited for the old man.  Well, at that time, the internet basically did not exist.  I guess we could have bought some guide books and directories, but making phone calls in French was err... probably not possible!

Hence, by the end of the day, we managed to book 3 return tickets from Edinburgh airport to CDG, Paris and accommodation for 2 nights in a 2 star hotel right in the middle of the city.  We had a swell time exploring every single tourist point in Paris: in The Louvre, up the Eiffel Tower, in the Notre Dame,  a cruise along River Seine, along Champ Elysees, Arc de Triomphe, the Pompidou museum, the parks, and even to the Basilique du Sacre Cour.  Phew, it was indeed tiring!  Not to mention, we spent a day in Disneyland (previously known as EuroDisney).  I remember us returning to our budget hotel where the 14 inch TV was located at the very top corner of the wall, requiring us to only be able to watch it while lying horizontally on our beds.  

The trip was fun and I remember using up 4-5 rolls of film! 

***

11th June 2010

After a few years of dreaming, I finally made the trip to Paris with my four children a reality.  Unlike other Malaysian post-graduate students, my interest in exploring Europe has sparked off, with the exception of Spain, which I haven't been to (although there are a few other countries I secretly dream of). I had travelled quite a lot during my younger days and the thought of travelling with four children in tow was a little daunting.  What could possibly be the cheapest, easiest and least stressful?  

Finally, after some thoughts and prayers, I booked our accommodations and tickets online.  I had initially thought of taking the cheapest flight to Paris, but I never came across any good deals so the next best thing to do was to drive all the way there, as it would save us more than a couple hundred pounds.  

To minimize stress, I chose hotels that offered comfort and practicality, as well as providing us value for money.  I was not disappointed with my choice to book a 2 night accommodation at one of the Disney hotels, Davy Crockett Ranch because it was a self-catering unit which was brilliant.  The deal included breakfast and 3 days in the 2 Disney parks: Disneyland and Walt Disney Studios.  On weekends, as Disney hotel patrons, we had the privilege to enter the park at 8am (as opposed to 9.30am). 

The children (plus mother) enjoyed the rides tremendously!  The queues were longer during the weekend, which we sometimes avoided by getting the Fastpass.  We went on some good rides multiple times and mind you, nobody got tired of it.

On our third day, we only stayed in Disneyland for half a day because we wanted to venture Paris.  It was only half an hour's drive to the hotel but it took us a little longer as the traffic was manic.  It definitely reminded me of driving in KL, except that we were on the wrong side of the road. 

After checking-in the hotel, we quickly made our way to the nearest Metro station and headed towards the Louvre (main attraction: the Mona Lisa).  My princess had asked to go to a few museums but I feared that it would bore the older boys who weren't too keen in anything historical.  She had initially requested to go to the National Picasso Museum and the Marmottan Monet Museum.  However, the Louvre itself took us awhile to explore and was enough for everyone to digest. 

We then walked along River Seine, heading towards Notre-Dame.  There was quite a crowd at Notre-Dame, so we didn't go in to count the gargoyles (as planned), but counted the number of statues on the front of the cathedral.  We replayed the story of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame and even began to see whether we could spot a hunchback!  Then, the plan was to get on a boat along the river but somehow, the children were beginning to get tired so they decided to skip the river cruise and head towards the Eiffel Tower instead. 

Once at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower, Abang Z and my princess said that they wanted to take the stairs up the tower.  I looked at them doubtfully.  'Are you sure you'll be able to make it?'  We had, after all, walked quite a distance.  I wasn't keen to climb up the stairs and hence, everyone had to come with me up on the lift.  

When we stepped out of the lift, little D exclaimed, 'I don't believe we're on top of Eiffel Tower!  Thank you, Mummy...' 

I had purchased tickets to the 2nd level of the tower as access to the top was closed.  Initially, I had mixed feelings about forking out some money to go up the tower, but as soon as I heard little D's shout of glee and looked at his brightly lit face, I knew that I had made the right decision.  Alhamdulillah... praise the Almighty!

On our way to the Metro station, we walked pass a halal kebab stall.  Our initial menu for dinner that night was cup noodles because we were in a hotel with just a kettle and fridge, but the aroma was so tantalizing that I halted to buy one for appetizer.  Well, the two boys had earlier seen a halal restaurant near the hotel so they had already requested THAT for dinner.  However, we reached the restaurant a little too late (11.05pm) and the only food they were willing to prepare were double cheese burgers with fries.  Surely, that was enough for my children and in front of the TV back in our hotel rooms, the food vanished ever so quickly.  For dessert, the children had cup noodles.  Talk about hungry!

The next day, everyone slept in a little before we packed up and bid au revoir to Paris.  It took us almost 3 hours driving to Calais, 35 minutes through Eurotunnel and then another 3 hours from Folkestone back to Coventry.  It was a smashing break indeed...

Love is...

When I was a little girl, one of the few things I loved to scan for when reading the New Straits Times was the small 'Love is...' cartoon strips by Kim Casali.  Apparently, Kim Casali started drawing these cute and romantic little pictures in the late 1960s for her boyfriend.  In the 1970s, they were published and surely  enough, gained immediate popularity.  I'm sure many would be able to recall them.  I somehow remember my teenage sisters having stickers of the cute couple (who were modestly naked) on their school folders or stationery.

I got this from here.

In the 1990s, I began to keep a collection of the snipped comic strips.  I guess this proves the extent of point 5 in my previous post.  What I liked most about Kim's comic strip is actually the various ways love is defined.  In one sentence, a simple yet meaningful message is sent across and warms the heart.  Does it warm yours? 

Our new abode

I'm letting the pictures do the talking this time... ;)

Farewell...

As much as it hurts the already throbbing hearts, it is time for the five of us to bid adieu.

With much reluctance and sadness, we all said our goodbyes to dear Hammy, the adorable hamster that became our friend during the days of loneliness after the demise of our dearest.

I had never published the post I wrote about the arrival of our new family members (the hamsters) as it was a rather sad episode. I did not want to attract more than the unnecessary attention we were receiving and allowed the children a little bit more privacy.

It all started with the request from Abang Z. Being typically children, mine love animals and long to have every single creature on earth as a pet(the last request from Little D was a bearded dragon!). Their late father used to give in to their requests for he too was very passionate with animals. While I squealed or warned them that I never wanted to be a part of the responsibility to care for the animals (i.e. cleaning their cages!), my late husband took care of them all as promised. Through the span of approximately 7 years, we had had a collection of rabbits, birds, tarantulas, hamsters, white mice (yes, euuuuww!!), fish, chickens, ducks and terrapins. Goodness knows what else I may have forgotten to list down here.

Getting back to the matter at hand, after the departure of my husband in October 2007, the children began to ask for pets.

Mama, I need a friend...I need a pet. Abang Z opened up one day (notice the use of the word "need"!)

But darling, you have the four of us already! Don't you think that we're enough company for you? Am I not your friend?

No, you're my MOTHER! You're not my friend. I need a friend... H is my brother and the others are my siblings. It's not the same. I need a friend!

And the whining began. I admit that his reasons did make me choke a little. We were going through a difficult time of bereavement and healing that I somehow felt that it was my duty to lift my boy's spirits up.

We went to the pet shop down the road and agreed to purchase a suitable pet or two for the children. In this case, it was for each of the older boys and they were using their own money received from family and friends. The shop assistant suggested the Syrian hamsters although the children had their eyes on the Dwarf hamsters. The Syrian hamsters were bigger than the Dwarf Hamsters, but were less sociable. This simply meant that if you purchased the Dwarf hamsters, you could place both of them in the same cage, as opposed to the Syrian Hamsters who would fight with one another. However, the Dwarf hamsters are mighty fast, deeming it unsuitable for children as they might disappear from your hands before you know it.

We thus settled for the Syrian hamsters - one for Abang Z and another for Abang H, complete with two sets of cages. They were both males and extremely cute. The boys were very vigilant looking after the two but surely, it wasn't for long... Soon they were tipping each other to do their chores!

When we went back home for a short holiday in 2008, we left each of them with different friends. White stayed with a loving family up north while Hammy lived with some close friends in the city. Upon our return, I thought it was a hassle to drive up to collect White. After a little convincing, Abang H decided that he was ready to give White away. Unfortunately, White passed on approximately a year ago - most probably due to suffocation or heart attack by a group of wild children who attacked it in sheer fondness the night before. And thus, we were left with Hammy. Our dear, dear Hammy.

For the past few weeks, I had noticed that Hammy wasn't his old self. He no longer hid in his green plastic cubicle of a house and was somewhat 'different'. His sheltered house became his 'toilet' and he preferred to sleep on a stack of wood-shavings where we could see him. I had warned the children that the time was nearing and everyone was well aware of the fact that the life expectancy of a hamster is only about 2 -3 years.

Is he dead?

After two years, it was time for Hammy to leave us. Farewell little rodent!

Sleep and dream

Women who get less than the recommended eight hours sleep a night are at higher risk of heart disease and heart-related problems than men with the same sleeping patterns.

Research by the University of Warwick and University College London has found that levels of inflammatory markers vary significantly with sleep duration in women, but not men.

I dream to sleep like a baby - to fall deep in slumber without a care in the world and without nightmares haunting...

My sleeping pattern, most probably like others in the same hemisphere (especially students), varies according to the seasons. Eight hours during summer is utterly impossible although on occasions, I do insist on it - made possible during the women's time of the month.

Back home, I remember being prohibited to sleep during Maghrib, for fear of being disturbed by syaitan. As a child, I remember falling asleep at dusk one day, later waking up feeling numb and heavy headed. And, what did the elderly say?

"Tulah... orang dah kata, jangan tidur masa senja, masa Maghrib...Pergi mandi cepat!"

[I told you! Never sleep during sunset or dusk! Now, go and take your shower quick!]

However, over here, the days can stretch so long during summer that Maghrib is at 9.30pm. Hence, it is impossible to NOT have the children sleep during Maghrib, if not before!

Last week, at about Maghrib time, I put the younger two to sleep and accompanied them in bed while reading Khalid Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns. They recited their du'as out loud and then began to wriggle and giggle about. The brightly-lit room strained their eyes so I had to put the book down and turn off the lights - surely enough, I too joined them in la-la land in a matter of seconds.

The next morning, I woke up feeling estranged - I had a really weird dream. But then again, when I dream, I always have strange ones. In most cases, I don't believe them at all because they are mind-games and illustrations played by ficticious imagination. After all, it was just a dream... But, oh boy, it does feel good to dream of your missed one, doesn't it? (even though you can't help feeling the ache deep within...)

My boys...

Since I wrote the last entry, some things have changed. I have begun to realise how much I have to be careful with whatever I say to these precious children of mine for their little minds often attempt to come up with incredulous ideas. This is what happened...



A day after I wrote the last entry, Abang H was a little lazy at reading his Quran. Instead of nagging him, I resorted to the usual psychological game. Hmm... looks like someone's making it much easier for me by not wanting to read the Quran today. Hoorah!



Instead of getting him beside me the next second with Quran in hand, they began an in-depth discussion with me about their request.



Oh, do you think it's too much for us to ask for the laptop? Abang Z queried (I dare not ask whether it was one each that they demanded for!).



I just smiled. No, if you boys don't want to read, hence not wanting to finish before the school trip to France, then it's fine by me.



The boys began to whisper to one another.



Okay-lah Mama, I won't ask for anything! I'll still try to khatam the Quran, but you don't have to give me anything, Abang Z exclaimed bravely.



Abang H's expression changed. WHAT? No laptop, no nothing?



I was taken aback by Abang Z's response. Calmly, I told them, Boys, look here. We made a deal so a deal is a deal. You just concentrate on your Quran readings, and leave everything else to me (even though I didn't really have a clue what my plan was!).



That night, I heard them talk and talk under their duvets but I was too tired to eavesdrop. The next morning, they presented me with their revised proposal.



Mama, we don't want a laptop (notice singular form, not plural!) for completing our Qurans but we have changed it to rabbits as pets! I've worked out an estimate and it's far cheaper than a laptop, you know.



Ow!



The children knew how I loathed pets of all sorts. I am not like their late dad who, like a child himself, loved every single living animal there is in the world, ever-so-willingly wanting to take home one! Yes, these creatures are amazingly adorable but only if they belong to someone else, of course! Wasn't it enough that I succumbed to their cries after their dad's departure by giving in to their requests for hamsters early 2008? Okay, so we gave one away when we went back home last year but we still have one more and no one hardly plays with it. I'm the one left talking and playing with it night and day. Urgh!!! By the way, aren't we supposed to be working on the 'NO NEGOTIATIONS' thingy?



It's definitely made me feel bad. Bad because one hint about my worry and they have changed their minds about what to ask for. I know that Abang H still wants the laptop, but Abang Z is trying to persuade him otherwise.



I'm trying to think what the late Mr.D would have said if he were here today. I know that the children really take after him, both at being a gadget-person and also loving animals. Personally, I'd prefer something as clean as an electric gadget (though it also requires some TLC). I also know that Little D is now questioning why his older brothers can request for a pet when he has been crying and wailing for a goldfish or guinea pig or stick insect for ages already! Ergo, getting the older ones rabbits would definitely make the younger one squeal in anger and frustration.



What seemed like a simple carrot has now transformed into a rabbit. So much for motivation!

A miracle?

No, it's Allah's grace...

Imagine being diagnosed with a rare type of cancer (malt lymphoma - which is NOT the usual lymphoma that has good records of recovery) at Stage 4 (1 being the beginning, and 4 the extreme, but 'advanced', like my late husband, being ... the ultimate I guess). How they determine the stage is according to the amount of area the cancer cells have spread to (doctors can correct me if I'm wrong here). My sis was at Stage 4 because it had gone into the blood, and also into the bone marrow. After approximately 5-6 months of treatment; ie. 6 cycles of chemo, bottles of Xanco (mangosteen skin juice), gallons of zam zam water (thanks to friends and relatives) which has been read with quranic verses by a Hafeez, Vitamin B17 in the form of apricot kernels, Cactus juice, RO water, habbatussauda' (black seed) and perhaps numerous more variations of medication or supplication, results of the tests indicate that she is actually free for cancer for now.

Physically, my sister is a petite woman with a clean and pure heart. Perhaps she has typical characteristics of a first child: picky with food and not extremely adventurous with it either. It is indeed a big turndown for Kak Long to be told that sugar activates the cancer cells when Kak Long is a sweet tooth!! So this darling sister of mine had to shield off and sacrifice so many items on the foodlist (of course the hospital dietician's list only specified raw food/fruit/vegetables, and food that has been exposed to the open air as things to avoid). I don't recall which specific expert's advice we followed, but I think MANY people advised her to stop eating: meat, dairy products, sugar (carbohydrates included of course), and salt, among others.

It created a lot of commotion, in actual fact. Many fussed, argued and debated over what should and should not be eaten. She got lectures from people who, undoubtedly, meant well. For me it was simple. If my sister could avoid the food, then by all means she should. But if she craved for them or couldn't consume anything else (since she had always been a wee bit picky), then just let her have whatever is halal and edible for her. Most importantly, she needed the energy to recover and regain her strength, especially prior to a chemo session she had to undergo. Everything else is and was in Allah's hands. Whatever medication she took would only heal with Allah's permission.

The total surrender to the Almighty especially in situations such as this is essential. I believe that going back to basics and what Rasulullah practised and used, is vital. The Holy Quran has many advantages and blessings; reading it (every letter, every word, verse, surah) correctly, understanding the meaning and of course the ultimate of all ultimates is applying the content to our daily lives!

Now that we're given a second chance, it'll only go to waste if we don't grab the opportunity... He loves us, doesn't He? :)

ps: I gave Kak Long every single quranic verse my late husband read during his last 3-4 months (even before being diagnosed with cancer). Raden Galoh has put up all the verses and chapters of the Quran that has been recommended to her on her blog, which a dear silent reader has compiled on pdf format. If anyone is interested in the pdf format(I have distributed to friends and family already), do leave your email address in the comment section.

Praises to the Almighty

When I opened my front door this morning, I was greeted with the sight of thick fog. The frosty morning with wet and slippery ground, however, did not dampen my spirits. My face was lit up in the brightest of all smiles as I cheerfully skipped across the road, holding 4 bags in one hand (Little D's lunch, reading bag, PE kit and lastly, a carrier bag filled with empty boxes to make instruments), and Little D's hand in the other. We were slightly later than usual but I didn't mind. For it seemed as if the world had frozen for us, allowing us to catch up with the hustle and bustle of the world's goings-on.

Minutes earlier, I had received a texted message from my second sister who resides in Kuching, informing me the results of our elder sister's PET scan and bone marrow tests. Alhamdulillah, praise the Lord Almighty, the results indicate that the affected parts are now cleared. She is free from cancer for now.

I was overjoyed. I was almost done with the children's breakfast and had already packed off their lunches neatly in their bags. Hence, I rushed to pick up the telephone and dialled my brother-in-law's number.

Kak Long sounded composed and humbled when I spoke to her. I knew that words would probably not be able to do justice in describing my sister's feelings. She was filled with gratitudes to the Almighty, feeling relieved as well as thankful to everyone who has supported her and prayed for her. It is all a test, I remind her. She has been blessed and given a second chance. Truly, only the line from my favourite surah of the Quran, Ar-Rahman, verse 13 came to mind: Which is it, of the favours of your Lord, that you deny?

In early June last year, my sister was diagnosed with 4th stage malt lymphoma. The beginning was actually this post and then followed by many more afterwards. When I accompanied her to the hospital, I did corner the doctor and tried to get her to give me the prognosis of my sister's situation. I guess, being the professional that she was, she said she couldn't give me one as malt lymphoma was not something very common. She simply said that the chance of survival was an honest 50-50%, and that even after my sister's 6 - 7 cycles of chemo, the chances of it recurring would still be high.

Looking back, I realise now that returning home last summer was perhaps one of the most wonderful thing that happened to us in 2008. It has taught me the meaning of relationships: with the Almighty, with family, with relatives, with friends, and with everyone we love or hate. In a relatively short period of time, I have learnt about the greatest hikmah, or advantage, of a disease called cancer. Although the deadly and eerie word can send shivers down one's spine, in actual truth it is a gift by the Almighty: a reminder that death may be so near, yet still a mystery (the actual date).

My late husband had the warning a month prior to his death. Some people get a decade. It all depends on each individual's rezqi. It is an opportunity that should be grabbed to reflect on life, to repent and to prepare facing the days ahead. Books such as Facing Death (mentioned here) and The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch are written by cancer patients that make us think of preparations in the last days of our lives. Reading Raden Galoh's blog and the other cancer patients listed on her blogroll, as well as meeting this very charismatic woman (even brought her to meet my Kak Long) definitely helped me understand a little bit more about the journey of a cancer patient.

Allahu Akbar!

It is only Wednesday, and I have already been blessed with several good news this week (still awaiting for more good news!). This is the rhythm of life - sometimes melodious, and sometimes in need of some tuning. For now, what more can I say other than Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah...

Thank you friends, for praying for my sister's health and for our well-being. May Allah bless you all and place you in Jannah, InsyaAllah...

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...

A splash of cold water... right in the face!

The trees are swaying, with leaves rustling. The air is fresh and cool; a wisp of tingling sensation running down the spine. I love the smell of fresh-cut grass and the energy created by the powerful effects of pleasant weather in Britain. The clear crisp air somehow allows you to snap out of your dream to realise that you are indeed living in the world today.

I was awoken from my deep slumber. Today I suddenly realised that this is for real. No, I have never been in denial, neither have I been angry nor have I antagonised the demise of my beloved. I have always known that he is gone, forever... (despite the memories that haunt me, and the dreams I still have of him: coming to just lie beside me in bed, both of us just smiling and looking deep into each other's eyes).

Nonetheless, today when I paid my zakat fitrah for the first time in my entire life - the fact hit me hard. I am now the leader of the pack, the sole parent, the closest human to my four off-springs. Such a responsibility lies on my shoulders, symbolically portrayed through the act of paying the zakat for each of my dependents. Oh, Cayang, I now have to do all this on my own... I know I can, with His guidance and power, but I feel I'm left to dwindle almost so hopelessly...

Then, later tonight, as I cleared up the living room, the term 'single-parent' hit me straight in the face - the second time today. Gee, now I am just like that makcik who has been raising her two daughters single-handedly ever since her husband passed away, when she was carrying her second child. Or, just like my neighbour from across the street, who's been divorced since her little girl was in kindergarten. In fact, my position is almost exactly like what I see in movies (or dramas and cerekaramas) or read in novels - of how widows and divorcees struggle to bring up their children single-handedly. They work extra hours, and they crack their whips, just so that their children are not deprived of the wonders of the world. Today, I am on the other side. I am that woman.

Subhanallah and Alhamdulillah. I thank the Lord for the rezki He has showered us with. However, I can't help feeling a wee bit sorry for my children; that their lives today are no longer the same as yesterday. I thought that I could offer them a more 'perfect' family than what I had before but who would guess that my beloved would go so soon? Ergo, I succumb to the divine will, because although feint, the best must be etched somewhere out there for each of us - by Him. They will InsyaAllah grow up tough, 100 times tougher than their Mommy.

It's almost a year now... (how time flies). This time last year, he had given a friend some money to pay for our zakat. This time last year, I still had a husband to whom I smiled to and held hands with. This time last year, we were still a family: a father, a mother and four children. That is how fast Allah can take what He has given. All for the best and all because He loves us.

Wakey, wakey! He is now only a memory in our minds - of a very loving and caring man who was my best friend and leader of the family.

My dearest children, you are the amanah Allah has bestowed onto me. With the barakah of this holy month, I pray that I will be a better Muslimah so that I can be a good mother to you all. It doesn't matter how difficult things are, or how different we are from others because as long as we have each other, then God-willing, we will always be alright.

Back in the UK (Part One)

It was difficult leaving home this time. Very, very difficult.

It was time to bid farewell to family and friends, and return to a plethora of loneliness and emptiness. Though we were lucky to always be surrounded by wonderful people who managed to fill in the gaps of emotional drought, nothing could really break the hollowness.

The last three days were horrible for me.

Perhaps it was the thought of leaving Kak Long was what haunted me. I want to be with her and hold her hands when she's scared and unsure, and tell her that Allah knows best. I want her to be worry-free of all worldly matters and focus on her own well-being.

Or perhaps it was the adieus with superb companions like old chummies from school and work, my dear Spot, blogger friends myheartbleeds and Raden Galoh, among others. Never forgetting, my dear nephews and nieces, who are angels and just like my own children - all 29 of them.

Or maybe it was just those last minute sessions with the few who only managed to meet up before we left - forcing me to relate stories of the past and opening floodgates to sadness and melancholy. I've related the story tens or hundreds of times, without shedding a tear - I know. But somehow, recently it has been difficult and I just let them tears flow...

Or perhaps it was the feeling that I've just failed in something I had put my heart into - an abandoned project.

Or perhaps it was the opposite of it, overwhelmed at the wonders the Almighty has programmed for me - a miracle unexplained. An answer to the prayers I make.

Or perhaps it was just the feeling of setting back on my path alone, without my soul mate. It really is a journey and I really am alone, guided by Him.

I don't know. Perhaps it's a mixture of everything. But what I do know is that I've had it with crying and feeling sad. I don't want to be sad. Of course, who does? I know that life ahead will be difficult but I'm not letting anything or anyone make me sad. Is that possible? Anything is possible when He permits it. I'm focussing my life now on my studies and my children. Period. I don't want to think of the unknown and indefinite. Those are to be left to the Almighty who never ever goes wrong.

Oh well, perhaps my free-lance writing will help me keep myself a little busy too. Yes, to those in Malaysia, I now write for an English weekly newspaper, Criteria. The newspaper is written in an Islamic voice and published by Saba Islamic Media. A dear senior from school recommended me the job and I thought I'd just try my luck. The newspaper is still relatively new and requires a lot of publicising and cheering, so here I am, doing just that. Maybe they'll soon give me my own column to ramble on, just like I do in this blog of mine, eh?

I planned a long entry - reflecting on the days in Malaysia and the lessons I have learnt but my body's not up to it yet. My final week in Malaysia was a little bit too exhausting on the body, mind and soul. Physically, I was running around from one end of the city to another. And all the mental and spiritual issues that went in my head invited Mr Insomnia, an old friend, back. So, after the long sit in the plane, I am now officially a little beat up.

Last night I managed to keep the children up a little longer than their eyes really allowed them to - by tickling them and fooling around with them. I also pulled them up and made them move their exhausted bodies just so that they slept when it was already night in the UK! Finally, when I could not fool them any longer, we all slumped together under the duvets, hugging each other tight and falling into deep slumber.

This morning, just as I planned, we got up for Sahoor, and after Subuh prayers, they all went back to bed. Two and a half hours later, everyone woke up feeling fresh and well recharged to start the first day of school. However, I left someone wailing in class today - oops! Little D was just a little bit too shy to go back, especially in a new setting with new teachers. My little Peanut is in Year One now. No longer a baby yet somehow I feel that I actually want to freeze time (or even turn back time) so that I can always keep him and the others wrapped in my arms.

Time to go now - to continue cleaning up the house and unpacking.

To dear Muslim brothers and sisters, have a good Ramadhan and let's grab this opportunity to be better Muslims.

Love is...

Minci posted an entry sharing some kids' definition of love.

I can't agree more with the last one on the list:

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget” - Jessica - age 8

People forget? They forget that they love another? Well, love needs to be refreshed and always be kept alive. For some people, it isn't easy saying those words (especially with our parents, perhaps) but I think with the new generation, we're better at expressing our emotions. For couples, it should be said out loud - from the beginning of the relationship right to the end. I did.

Action speaks louder than words, indeed that's true. But saying the words out loud strengthens our belief and hopes.

Little D is the one who says 'I love you' the most to me now. He kisses me and hugs me, and gives me his charming smile. And it makes me feel good. So, I've been trying to say it more often with the older ones (though the twins are rather shy...). I think it has an amazing effect too. Love is contagious, isn't it?

Do you feel love? Loving and being loved is the best gift from the Almighty. And the love for Him should precede anything else.

Heading home...

In less than 24 hours, I had already booked 5 return tickets. Everything's moving so fast, I can hardly breathe. I have gone around meeting, calling and getting in touch with so many people, either to get approval and help with my decision to head home (with dates, ticket price, etc), or just merely to share the news. Alhamdulillah, these people have made me feel not so lonely and not so helpless, although words can't really describe how I feel.

All limbs are weak, and the heart is throbbing hard. It's so painful. I'm going through the same sentiments I went through eight months ago - when the news was made known. The free-flowing tears never seem to dry out and it's so difficult to hold them back when talking to people. And it's so embarrassing. I hate it when I can't control my emotions.

Still, I've made a list of things to be done before I leave and once back home. I'm horrible at being half. I've even asked the kids to keep their own lists in their journals: things to do and get, food to eat, people to meet and places to go. I've only confirmed it today, and already they've named Wet World, KLCC, Midvalley Mega Mall and Malacca as places to go to! (Malacca simply because their friends here are soon going home for good and they'll be heading for Malacca). Princess recalls the fresh donuts from the van in front of Giant Kelana Jaya and has requested for those (Hmm.. I wonder if it still exists!). She even remembers our ritual Sunday trips; out nasi lemak-hunting - and amongst our favourite is Nasi Lemak Lido in Klang, where there's an Uncle Botak (bald). This, however, I'm not so sure I'd want to go back to.

In fact, the thought of going back home - being where I was last with someone who is no longer here - is more than daunting. It is heart-wrenching and nerve-wrecking. I don't want to go through that. I don't want to go home just yet. I don't want to be reminded of the wonderful days of yesterday. I don't want to go back and feel him, yet not have him physically around. But I have to do this. Perhaps a little sooner than expected, but come what may, the day will still arrive. And now, my sister needs me to be by her side. I need to be by her side too. I need to tell her It's alright, so that I remind myself too, that it really is alright. Therefore, I have to wipe these tears off and just step into it.

I am going home.

Why I am proud of them

Two Fridays ago, at their school assembly, both my twin boys were awarded for being creative and artistict - from two different teachers, as they are in different classes! It is certainly a coincidence; a wonderful one. And I am proud of them.

These are traits that dyslexics tend to have - a 'thing' with art. However, they don't seem to really like Art as a subject. They are just naturally creative with their work. Don't even expect them to be Picasso or Van Gohn - they're just artistic in their own ways.

I often ask them what they'd like to be when they grow up, and mind you - they're not even close to anything artistic! Nevertheless, the boys are still young and it is important for them to get as much exposure to a variety of things; for them to choose from much later in life. To me, being artistically inclined does not necessarily mean one has to choose a profession in that field. As a child, I had great interests over art but the interest and whatever little skill I had was not polished enough or given the opportunity to develop. Still, being artistic and creative is a prerequisite for a teacher, I would say!

Bringing up children with dyslexia is definitely a challenge and one should be most patient when handling them. I remember how I had been quite frustrated teaching them to read when they were much younger, as I had learnt to read at quite an early age. Today, I approach the issue of reading in a more rewarding way - not really my cup of tea, but something that works pretty well with the boys.

For now, the boys are highly motivated to read and finish (khatam) their Quran. Oh yes... reading the Arabic letters can be confusing too! They are a little slow, I know, but I promise to be by their sides, guiding them and cheering them on. They have requested for rewards if they get to finish the Quran this year, and I am more than happy to oblige to their requests. InsyaAllah, if they can make it, I will try and find the rezqi to get them what they want.

May Allah make their future smooth-sailing, developing good virtues and taking in the vast amount of knowledge and opportunities ahead.

The big hearts those kids of mine have

Just sharing the words in the cards my children gave me yesterday... Abang Z's were the most touching of all, while I know my Princess spent a long time browsing through the shelves for the cards with the best words her 7 1/2 year old mind were drawn to. The children are sometimes not too keen with the idea that I share pictures and their work on the net through my blog. They know that many people read them and since they're pretty shy, they find it a little embarrassing. Thus, after seeking Abang Z's permission, I am allowed to type out his rhyme instead of putting up pictures of the real thing.

Princess' Hallmark card said:

You're more than just

a mum to me...

I'm so lucky that
you're a special friend, too.

From Abang Z:

Just a note of caution, my twins are slightly dyslexics. So, please excuse the fourth line - mistake in choice of preposition and spelling (yikes - role of English teacher here!!). Oh, and also the title! He he he...

Rhym

I love my mommy,

Her food is so yummy,

I love my mommy,

I came of trough her tummy,

I love my mommy,

I am her sonny.

Then, a special note on the next page:

Where do you want to go? Cinema? Bowling? Ice skating? any place you want to go.

Well, they had actually wanted to treat me on my birthday. Hmm.. come to think of it, from the way Abang Z put it, it was more of an outing for him, rather than for me. Abang H said he was okay with anything I decided since it was my birthday. Unfortunately, I was still half traumatised over yesterday's accident (furthermore, the car's not fit to be driven) that I begged them to let me take a rain check. Thought of giving in to movie-watching, but there wasn't anything good showing that we could all go to.

Some wonderful friends called me up throughout the day and I did feel better thereafter. Did some activities with the kids, watched Hook on TV together, and then I busied myself with some domestic therapy of cleaning the kitchen and the rest of the house. When I'm stressed, I usually do one of the two extremes: leave the house to rot or tidy it up to the last speck of dust! Since I had done the first a few days back, it was time to do the other! ;)

To my wonderful children, here's a big heart in return for your big gesture! Love you all soooooooooooooooooo much!

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

Expect me to be in hiatus for awhile now - too many things happening all at once. Need to catch my breathe, pause & reflect..

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

A last letter to my dearest Mr D

My dearest Cayang,

This is probably my last letter to you, although I don't think there will be any postmen who can bring this letter to you. So, instead of posting it into a postbox, I'm posting this on my regular blog. It's my dedication to you on the last day of my 'Iddah...

Cayang,

Even though today marks 4 months and 10 days since you left us, I still find the fact of you no longer existing in this world too wild to believe. There are too many times that I feel at lost without you by my side - no more jokes from you, no more handyman in the house, no more friend to hear my woes of the day, no more hugs and kisses, and no more surprises behind doors. The list is endless, Cayang, and I so miss you very much... Every time I fry some keropok, I am reminded of how much you had enjoyed them. And every time I see the grapes on the shelves at the supermarket, I remember how you always told me to get you some while you were in the hospital - "and make sure they're sweet!", you had remarked. I look at the cracked window in the kitchen, and I remember you; I open up the medicine cabinet, and I'm reminded of you. You are everywhere in our lives Cayang, yet you are not here.

Having said this, Cayang, I believe that the period of grieve Allah has set, is a very fulfilling time - of which I have been able to recollect the memories of you the way I probably should; with aids of pictures, momentos, and reflections. Being alone here, Cayang, has taught me so much about life. I have learnt about faith, communication, sacrifice, love, devotion, determination, strength, power, sincerity, sympathy, empathy, money, friendship, family and many more. Most of all, Cayang, I believe that you were a symbol of sacrifice to our family for not only did you suffer physically, but the trial Allah has set up for us is just to bring us closer to Him. Alhamdulillah. Further away from you but closer to Him. Isn't that a real sacrifice?

My dearest,

How I feel like rewinding the months that have passed, back to the month of September when you were diagnosed with Cancer. How I wish I was courageous enough to tell you how much I am grateful to the Almighty for the 11 years of marriage with you. I couldn't do it at that time, Cayang, because I didn't want to think that you were leaving us too soon. All I wanted to do was to make you happy and fill you with hopes and determination. I didn't want to bring you down into sorrow and sadness. However, I am pleased that I did manage tell you from time to time that I constantly love you, and so does Allah. Alhamdulillah, from the very beginning we were guided into a relationship I consider so perfect. To me, it takes someone really special to be able to tolerate me. And you were able to do just that - to understand me, to love me and to always be by my side. I do not think that anyone can love me as much as you did, Cayang, and for that, I thank Allah for blessing me with you Cayang...

You promised to love me and be as loving to one another as Day One, and you kept to your words. As one who was never really surrounded with love, I appreciate and treasure all that you have done to me and for me. I hope that I have done so to you too, although I feel that I have not been as great a partner, friend, and wife to you. Forgive me, Cayang...

Cayang,

You have taught me a lot about life through your own being. How could life not be meaningful and purposeful when everything we did evolved around the love we had for one another? As long as I had you with me, I was happy and contented. So, what happens now, Cayang, when you are no longer physically here? The sadness and hollowness that I feel, however, does not mean that I am not letting you go. Allah loves you more, and He knows best. You went in the most honourable way I can think of, and that I feel is a sign that He loves you so much. All the wonderful things you have done in your lifetime has paid off, Cayang, and I will ensure that the precious gems you have left with me (the children) will continue to bring you more blessings for your afterlife, InsyaAllah... Although the dreams we built together may seem to be shattered, I seek the Almighty to help me plan out and path out what is best for us all.

My Beloved Cayang,

Don't you think that our love is so great that it is all portrayed through the way it has tragically ended? Remember, Cayang, our love started here - in the UK, back in 1994. And after all that we have gone through together, you were so determined to come back here with our four darlings. Who would have thought that it was merely because you were going to finish off the love you started here as well? Thirteen years later. I find this so mesmerising.

My ever dearest Cayang,

Today my 'Iddah ends, and I ensure you that I will no longer grieve for your departure because that is not what He wants. It does not mean, however, that I will no longer think of you. I will continue praying for you, loving you and keeping you in my mind, but I will not make this a hurdle in our years to come. Allah knows best, hence I will be optimistic; relishing on all that I have gained out of this bitter experience, and bring them along to move on with the children - to carry on with the dreams that we built together, for our children, lillahita'ala. So, Cayang, allow me to step into a whole new world - with what little courage I am left with, led by the Almighty...

Your One and Only,

~D~

A somewhat different Mother's Day

Okay, okay, I have learnt my lesson. Not only should one avoid the shops during the weekends, but one should especially avoid the shops a day prior to any celebration. Yesterday evening, I went to the shops to get my groceries and found ourselves trapped in a huge crowd. You see, in the UK, Mother's Day is the first Sunday of March, i.e. today!

As we entered the supermarket, the first aisle was strategically filled with Mother's Day knickknacks: the row of cards, chocolates, gifts and flowers. My princess innocently asked me, Mummy, can I buy a Mother's Day's card? Oh dear... What was I supposed to say? No? There's no need to?

So, I gave the children some space by allowing the older ones to linger at that section while I made a dash for the food section (first making sure that they didn't buy anything they couldn't afford; read - nothing outrageously expensive!). I felt a tinge of sadness as I nostalgically remember their late dad teaming up with them when they were working up on a surprise for me(Mother's Day / my birthday). Now, they no longer have their daddy to conspire with and are still under age to go out to get anything on their own. How are they going to manage? Or better still, how am I going to make sure they can still do the things they used to do? Of course I am not concerned with material showers but I understand the children's personal desire to get something for their mum - just like everyone else.

When I got up this morning, I busied myself in the kitchen by baking a cake for the children and preparing breakfast. Once everything was done, with coffee in hand, I stepped into the living room to enjoy my breakfast when, lo and behold, there was a surprise waiting for me!

3 cards (+ 1 Tesco brochure for flower orders on Mother's Day), a box of chocolates, a bead and shell necklace (Twin H told me it took him a week to drill two holes through the shell), and a hanging card were laid out on the table for me. I kissed each child thank you and read the card my Princess chose:

The most thoughtful people

are thought about the most,

and wished the very best

of everything...

always.

This warm and loving message

is especially meant for you

Because it's filled with gratitude

for the thoughtful things you do...

And with it comes a special wish

that Mother's Day will bring

All the joy you so deserve

and the best of everything.

Have a Wonderful Mother's Day

To: Mama

Love from Izz Zh@reef, Ulfah, Dean, Hanees,

White and Grey the hamsters.

Of course, the emotional me could not help being teary. As if that wasn't enough, they instructed me to open up the card - and in it was a picture of their late dad:

Imagine them remembering their late dad on Mother's Day! I now realise that they probably think of their dad as much as I do, even though they don't say it out loud...

(squiggly scribbles - oops...)

I later brought them out for ice-cream (the weather was very promising!!) and some goodies. It was too sunny to stay indoors, but ironically, the great weather only brought back memories of the good days spent out with Mamasarah's family and the late Mr D. Thus, Mother's Day evoked a mixture of feelings that are very precious to me.

To my children I dearly love (a.k.a the Fantastic Four),
Thank you very much for your wonderful gesture and thoughts. What I only ask for on Mother's Day (and every other day) is that I can really be a good mother to you so that you will all grow up into good Muslims blessed by the Almighty.

To all mothers out there,

Happy Mother's Day.

Let me end with an interesting quotation, worth pondering upon:

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before.

The woman existed, but the mother, never.

A mother is something absolutely new."

Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh quotes (Indian Spiritual leader, 1931 - 1990)

Hopefully, we can all be excellent mothers (and fathers for the opposite species) to all whom we consider our children.

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...