Kabar Duka Keempat

"Halo?"

"Halo? Ya Buk?"

"Aku baru teirma kabar duka."

"Oh..."

"Temanku waktu SMP kemarin meninggal dunia. Sakit jantung."

"Innalillahi wainna ilaihi rojiuun."

"Dia seumur aku. Kakaknya, temanku satu sekolah juga, sekarang lumpuh habis operasi kaki, pengapuran seperti aku juga."

Aku diam. Tidak tahu harus berucap apa. Seringkali aku merasa, dalam situasi seperti ini, kata-kata jadi tidak berarti. Seringkali, kata-kata jadi basi.

"Dia belum menikah."

"Oh..."

"Seumur aku, dan belum menikah. Padahal dia kepingin sekali menikah, punya keluarga."

Aku masih terdiam. Semakin tidak tahu harus berkata apa.

"Aku takut juga. Sudah empat orang berarti temanku meninggal karena serangan jantung dalam setahun ini."

"Sudah Buk, cukup sampai di situ berpikirnya. Sekarang yang penting Ibuk berdoa. Doakan mereka, berdoa juga buat Ibuk, jaga kesehatan, hidup bahagia. Sudah jangan mikir yang lain-lain lagi. Sudah usia segini, yang dipikir cuma bagaimana hidup tenang bahagia, wis itu saja.

Ibuk terdiam beberapa saat. Aku terpikir, apakah aku sudah menyinggung perasaannya. Kadang aku merasa kasihan pada orang-orang di sekitarku, yang merasa dekat denganku. Perasaan itu bukannya bertepuk sebelah tangan. Aku pun merasa kedekatan emosional yang sama dengan mereka. Tapi tidak banyak yang bisa kutawarkan dari diriku. Menenangkan orang sedih saja aku kikuk tergagap-gagap.

"Iya sih. Kamu benar. Didoakan saja sudah paling betul."

"Iya Buk." Aku menghela napas lega.

"Ya sudah. Kamu kerja lagi sana. Aku mau solat. Mau doakan mereka."

"Iya Buk, sudah ya. Wassalamualaikum."

Aku meletakkan gagang telepon kembali di tempatnya. Kehilangan orientasi untuk sesaat, memandangi monitor laptop yang penuh dengan balok dan lingkarang warna-warni. Apa yang sedang kuketik tadi? Apa yang sedang kulakukan tadi ketika Ibuk di rumah menerima telepon yang menyampaikan kabar duka?

Ini kabar duka keempat di tahun ini.

Dan ini masih bulan Maret.

Does God Forget About Us

Do you think it's possible for God to forget about us?

Do you think it is possible that in one tiny fraction of seconds, His mighty and holy and generous attention faltered, and some of us slipped from His plan?

I wonder.

I just wonder.

End of Year Question

It's September now.

The time of year when the world will be gradually slowing down,

Slowly, slowly, it will come down to a halt.

When the air particles are no longer bouncing frantically against one another. 

The days will last longer, and the night comes slower.

Until it feels like time is frozen,

And the whole world becomes quieter.

And without you realizing, 

December is here.

Another chapter is closed.

Another phase has ended.

I am not sure what to say about me though. While (I am sure) you're going through everything with a full grip on your pen to write whatever you like on your paper, I am here completely at lost at how quick everything has happened and most of the time left dumbfounded, looking at what destiny has left in its wake and how, how, how much did I miss?

A question I am sure you are completely unfamiliar with. 

The case of June when it is ending

It's June. The rainy season has just stopped and technically everything has just been restarted as the holiday is just over and people are just returning to work again.

But.

Days feel like dragging on. Silence is hanging heavy in the air, as if moving in slow motion, blanketing everything around me. Time feels like suspended in the air. Unwilling to leave the damp rainy seasons and greet the dry season. 

Like me.

Unwilling to embrace the necessity, the factuality, the inevitability of change and the turning around of the earth. Trapped in a bubble of uncertainty, suspended in reluctant inertia of life and faith.

Such as the case of the end of June.

It is the beginning of a season, the beginning of everything, but God does it feels like a slow journey toward an end.

It feels like the final part of the song when the chorus is exhausted and overused and started to lose its meaning. When the life of the song slowly diminishing through a weak of repeated lines, over and over until the emotion that fuels their life is running out and echoes are all that's left.

That's how June ends.

Aku dan Kata-Kata

Dear B,

Ada ribuan kata tersangkut di sini, di dalam mulutku. Mendesak ingin berhamburan keluar, menerjang dan menghantam semua dinding-dinding tak terlihat yang berdiri kokoh di sekitarku. Ini adalah sebuah peperangan yang tak akan ada ujungnya, antara aku, dan kata-kata. Sebagaimana tak akan pernah pula berhenti peperangan antara kejujuran, dan ketidakjujuran. Aku tidak jujur. Kata-kata jujur. Maka kami tidak akan pernah akur.

Belum waktunya, begitu selalu kataku. Pada diriku, pada kata-kata itu.

Saat ini belum waktunya bagiku.

Belum waktunya untuk menuntut kepada entah siapa, akan hak atas hidupku.

Belum waktunya untuk menjajal dan menjadi bagian dari euphoria itu. Euphoria yang muncul dari keinginan untuk begitu mencintai jiwa sepenuhnya, memberinya ruang seluas dunia untuk bergerak dan bernafas dan hidup dan menghidupkan.

Belum waktunya bagiku, untuk memberikan ruang bagi diriku.

Dan kau tentu tahu persis kenapa.

Waktu masih terhenti di bagian bumi yang kupijak.

Dan kau tentu tahu persis kenapa.

Aku masih bergulat sendiri di sini, mengurai jalinan benang yang kubuat kusut bertahun lalu.

Meringue

Dear Blue, we are spreading the pink meringues on the paper tissue now. 

We are trying to get the chocolate ones but they were put at the bottom under the pink ones (and no one wants to try the pink ones, you know how it is, chocolates are far more appealing).

So here they are finally spread, all pinks, against the white paper tissue. They looked so cute, with all the tiny dots of red all over them. I love meringue. I always love the way they melt in my mouth.

Dear Blue, this is nothing but another nonsensical thought appears out of nowhere. You don’t have to read it. You’ll probably never read it. You might never even realize that it has been written and posted here, all these things about you. But if one day you read it, you don’t need to cringe or frown. And you don’t have to like meringues.

It’s just me. With another nonsensical thought appear out of nowhere. Yet even the most nonsense things seem to be triggering a thought of you.

Dear Blue, we are spreading the pink meringues on the paper tissue, and I suddenly wondered, do you actually like meringues too?

But again, it’s okay, you don’t have to like it. I was just wondering how you are doing now.

Every Morning

Every morning I’d wake up to a strange realization on how quiet it is inside my head. I’d spend the first few minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, thinking about you, and all the feelings I have about you; the feelings that never stop pounding loudly in my chest, the feelings that have overtaken all my logic and reasons, replacing it with something unidentifiable yet overwhelming. It’s funny how distant and strange the feeling seems to be in the morning. I wonder, what could have possibly happened during my sleep that has erased all the chaos, leaving no trace but the subtle feeling of a déjà vu, so subtle like a thin transparent fabric on your window. It has died down overnight.

At that very brief moment, I thought I finally got over you and all the impossibilities. It feels relieving at the beginning. 

Then I’d start to feel a sense of loss. I’d wonder would it felt not thinking about you every day. How would it felt not longing for you. How would it felt to finally stop dreaming and get my feet on the ground. How unpleasant everything is if I stop dreaming and let logic takes over. How unpleasant it would be for not having you sitting silently at the corner of my mind, listening to all the tales I’ve been telling myself in my quiet moments, hoping that you’d hear, somehow. 

With this doubt creeping, I’d get off my bed, feeling there’s a part of me cried for having to say goodbye to the feeling that (I thought) has ended, and at the same time relieved for finally being able to see things clearly again and continue my life.

And then, just when I finally step my feet on the floor, preparing to start another day, the feeling comes back, sweeping over me like a wave in the ocean. Waves that have reached the shore. Small, slow, uncertain to where to land, where to stop, where to hit, but keep on going nevertheless, dancing their way to the shore, sweeping everything on their way, erasing all the reasons and doubts that have been thrown at the end of the shoreline by confused souls. Drawing a new shoreline. Cleaning up the surface, leaving nothing but the sands, no footprints, no signs, no trace at all, nothing to show that once there were marks of doubts of pains of tears there.

And with that, once again I surrender to the feeling. Embracing the sight of the clean shoreline, instinctively letting in the taste of the air of a new day through my nose and into my lungs, running through my veins, and becoming the breath that I breathe for that day before it ends and another day arrive tomorrow. And it will start all over again. 

And it goes on. And on. And on.