the moral of the story?

I was having a really bad day at the office yesterday. Not that it's the first time. Looking back, that has always been the case with my job for the past six years: deadlines, crazy deadlines, friendly deadlines, I-understand-your-workload-but-sorry-what-else-can-I-do deadlines, chaotic environment filled with tension, people hurrying by to catch up with whatever it is running ahead of them, trying to get ahead of everything.


That was my introvert, HSP self talking.  


There are times when my less than 1% extrovert self (yes, I still believe that I actually have this, the test system just failed to recognize it) coming out and decided to take the front line, and see things rather differently. That it has always been a good place to work. That it's actually the best place to grow, full of challenges and experiences of new things you might never heard of before. That it's actually a place that will boost your confidence by taking you involved in big things, big scenarios, access to classified information, meeting important people. That those tensions, that chaotic environment, will be from time to time, filled with the sounds of people throwing jokes, laughter everywhere, victory scream over new business wins, friendly faces smiling over small unimportant things of our everyday lives.


I learn not to judge what my two sides of self see. They do have their positive and negative sides, though I am perfectly aware that I will always be gravitated to what I truly am: the introvert, the HSP, the unsent, the one that doesn't fit in. 


In some days, I can walk into the office calm, composed, collected, full of control of myself, ready to take any challenges offered by the day. In some days, I would walk in miserably, feeling frustrated by the chaotic environment, intimidated by deadlines that haven't even existed (yet). Yesterday was one of those days. With two deadlines waiting, the HSP in me that were on active mode started to panic. It wasn't a good condition and I collapsed, layer by layer, throughout the day. 


I finished my work for the day. Some of them. But I felt torn apart; my pride was torn apart, the idea I have about myself was challenged to the point of questioning my very existence in this world; am I just one of those passerby? One of the dying soul walking around the earth simply trying to make ends meet before the end comes and take away everything life is?


I spent the two hours going home trying to fight the tears I knew wouldn't be able to come out anyway. Just glistening moist at the corner of my eyes. My chest was full with emotions and my head was full with thoughts, both I have no control of. They were swirling, turning around, and I was so sure that I was going to cry last night. 


But then, not so far from my house, I saw some kids playing ular naga panjangnya. It's a traditional game I used to play when I was a little kid. I live in a suburban area, thus it is actually not uncommon to find children playing traditional games. But seeing those kids forming a row, singing and giggling while moving in a snake-like motion last night somehow brought a smile to my face. I suddenly thought of the days when I was one of those kids, singing and giggling under the moonlight. For a brief moment, I could feel the excitement I used to have while running around bare feet with my little friends in front of our houses. It was brief, but it was able to lift the heavy feeling off my chest. So last night, despite the intimidating day I had previously, I reached home with lighter heart and a smile on my face. And I'm really thankful for it.


I felt grateful how some things, are, comfortably, remains the same, especially within our heart. Now I see why.


So, dearest people, what is the moral of the story? I don't know. I don't think I've started this blog post with such a noble idea to give and moreover, to highlight a valuable lesson. At least not this time. I don't know what the moral of the story is, and I'm not planning to dig deeper into my brain to find out about it anytime soon. I started this blog post with a rather selfish intention, that is to let you know that I was having a bad day and unable to deal with it, I've let it ruining my day, but then I managed to came home smiling because of some kids playing ular naga panjangnya. 


Was it about finding the silver lining in the sky? Was it about having positive thought in your hardest times? Was it about finding peace within yourself? I don't know. 


I just remembered that when I opened the gate of my house last night, I sighed, and thinking, oh such an old wisdom, never fades in time. 


But what was it, really?




South Jakarta, in the middle of this chaotic place, while waiting for my research plan being reviewed

Regret

It was at the dinner after work. I was with some friends, and I don't know how it was started, but suddenly we were talking about the sakaratul maut. 

One of my friends told us that he had to witness the last minutes of his mother's life. It wasn’t until years after that that he realized, that it had left him with a trauma. The fact that he had been faced with the situation where someone meant a lot to him was in a critical condition, and he didn’t know what to do, has left him with a question that he has not been able to deal with until now: how could he be so ignorant and not realizing that the time was close for her mother. 


He said if he’d only known, he would’ve asked or led her mother to recite some prayers. If he had known, he'd stop searching for the signs of hope and would focus more on guiding his mother embracing her last moments. If he'd only known, he'd been able to help her went through her last minutes with grace.

I think all of us have our own ‘if only’ moments about losing our loved ones. Some of them are probably too devastating that we don’t want to share it with anyone. Most of the time, we don't face them and deal with them. We even refuse to consciously acknowledge them. But they're there. They live, in the darkest corner of our mind. 

My most devastating ‘if only’ story is quite similar with my friend's. 

I witnessed the last seconds of my father’s life. He died in my arms. I saw him taking his last breath. I still remember how it sounds. And I completely remember how I became absolutely calm and rational. The wheel in my mind effectively turned to process one information, one necessary, urgent information at that time: what to do after this. Starting with finding a doctor to confirm his death, letting the neighbours know so they can help me notifying the mosque so that the mosque can make an announcement, making phone calls to some close relatives, and, of course, arranging the chairs in the room before anyone come.

Years after that, those are the memories that I can recall. The shock after finding my father died, and the sudden switch of emotion. After that, everything was fast forwarded. And then it was life as usual.

I didn’t remember helping him saying his last pray, or anything of the sorts. I remember trying to find any signs that he was still alive. I remember trying to give him waters. I remember trying to feel the pulse in his hands. I remember the slowly creeping realization when I felt his feet were already cold. I remember when I finally closed his eyes with my fingers. 

And of course, I'd have to deal with my 'if only's. 

A few minutes before my father died, I was trying to avoid him. Simply because I was sleepy and not in the mood of talking to anyone. I was in my room and pretended I didn't hear him when he's knocking on my door, asking me to accompany him for dinner, a thing that, if I'd only pay more attention, was very unlikely to be expected from him.

If I'd only known that it was close, I'd be more behave. If I'd only realized that the time was near for him, I'd do something else. Anything else, instead of trying to bring him back to consciousness by giving him water. Not that I have any reliable and competent reference on that either. 

Thinking about it now, I consider myself (slightly) luckier than my friend. At the very last seconds when I realized that my father was in sakaratul maut, I managed to guide him to recite astaghfirullahal'adzim and tauhid. Were those the correct and proper prayers to recite for such occasion, I didn't know. I also didn't remember hearing him following and repeating what I said. I don't think he did. I just hoped that with the last amount of consciousness that he had left, he'd heard me. Somehow I thought that would be enough.

It's still a devastating moment for me. Losing your loved one always is. And it doesn't just fade away in times. Most of the time, it stays. Sometimes because it was a huge loss for you, sometimes because there's just too many if only's to deal with that it doesn't run out after years. 

Ten years have passed since my father died. And I'm not getting any wiser about it. I can accept the fact that his time had arrived and he's in better place now. But I can't stop thinking, even until now, that if only I could do things differently. 

There's this saying about don't take your loved ones for granted. A conversation with the friends I mentioned earlier had bring a whole new meaning to it. As usual, wise words are wise words and we understand the meaning and we understand the importance of the meaning. It's just that we don't understand it that much, not enough to actually do and committed to it, until something happen and the understanding was finally forced upon us.

I just wish that one day, when I have to lose the person I love, I'll be wiser. 

Pinggiran Jakarta, early in the morning

Sepotong (sepotong) percakapan di Sabtu siang

Apa yang tercecer dari pertemuan dengan @gitajamil dan @ninayaw minggu kemarin.

1

Mari menulis cerita.

Cerita apa?

Maunya cerita apa?

Cerita, errr, dikejar anjing?

Ok. 

*menulis*

Kok Cikejar? D-i-k-e-j-a-r.

Oh iya. Gimana dong. Masa dicoret?

Kasi garis lurus aja di sebelah kanan huruf C-nya.

Ah iya bener. 

Mudah kan solusinya. Garis lurus.

*manggut-manggut*

Jadi ya, di sekolah kamu akan ketemu baaaanyak masalah. Nah, kamu akan bisa menyelesaikan semua masalah dengan mudah. Ingat, solusinya: garis lurus. Itu adalah solusi untuk semua masalah.

Menulis puisi "Dikejar Anjing"

In case you're wondering, akhir 'puisi' ini adalah: "you may kiss the bride". And don't ask me why.

2

Ok, pilih topik kita hari ini. Hosni Mubarak, Hosni, atau Mubarak.

Kenapa tentang dia?

Karena katanya dia turun berok.

*gigit menu*

3

Itu loh, tadi dia katanya mau bikin cerita tentang kitten.

Kitten? Kitten itu kan kitty yang puppen.

4

You know, life is about making choices.

I know. Making choices, about choosing.

You're right. Choosing choices.

5

Ah, gue mau aplot emplat foto ah nanti.

Emplat?

Iya, kan aplot. 

6
Arthropoda itu kan binatang berkaki delapan. Seperti laba-laba gitu.
Loh, kalau kalau yang kakinya enam?
Apa ya? Emang ada?
Ada kali gue rasa. Namanya arthrominusdua




7

*bermain tebak gambar*

Ini gambar apa hayo?

Baju?

Depannya M.

Mbaju?

Bukaan!

Monyet?

Bukaaaan.

Jadi apa dong?

Mobil!

Ih kan cuma beda nyet sama bil aja *kecewa*

8

*bermain mencari gambar*

Cari gambar yang depannya dari huruf H!

*mencari-cari*

*gak ketemu juga*

Hantu?

Bukaaan!

Apa dong jadinya?

H-uruf cina!

*oh*

9

Ini Gemini kan?

Iyaa, yang murah-murah aja gue sih

Berapa emang murahnya?

Dua juta.

Dua juta jreng? Bukannya lebih?

Gak jreng sih.

Jreng kok, kalo lo belinya bawa gitar. Bang, beli BB bang. Jreng. Dapet deh dua juta.

10

*bermain menanyakan pertanyaan dalam bahasa Arab*

Man ismuki?

Ismi Gita.

Sekarang giliran aku. Man nabiyyuka?

Huaaaaa kok pertanyaannya begituuuu!!!!!

Oh well, thanks for the Saturday afternoon session guys :)

Extremely Difficult

Thursday afternoon, the Chinese New Year.
I was trying to get some me time; write some things that have been occupying my mind in the past few weeks, watch some movies that have been stuck in the shelves for the past few weeks, or simply sit and drink my coffee.
So I woke up and cleaning up the house as usual. Expecting to have some quiet contemplation moment in front of the computer screen afterward.
The house cleaning process which was scheduled to be completed not more than 30 minutes continued until about 1.5 hour afterwards, constantly disrupted by small requests from Mom and my daughter to do this and that, repair this and that, and also breakfast.
After breakfast, I made some coffee and sat myself on the chair, facing my laptop with high eagerness.
My quiet moments, finally.
But not yet.
Mom had this idea of going to the mall to repair her glasses. And my daughter thinks it’s a good idea. Because she wanted to have some ice cream. And a new note book. Or bracelets.
About an hour of debate (with me persistently sitting in front of the laptop), it was finally decided that we are going to stay home, and buy the ice cream from the store nearby.
Of course, my daughter’s nagging didn’t stop there. She insisted to get her ice cream, like, there and then.
And while it was continuing, Mom asked me to cari uban.
I refused politely, telling her that I got some things to do. Obviously, with the laptop open.
I think she was a bit upset but I tried to ignore it. I’ve been waiting for weeks to be able to have some quiet moments without being disrupted by any unwanted visitors or phone calls (yes, the last several weekends were full of never ending knocks on the door, children coming and going, phone ringing from time to time, from morning till late in the afternoon).
This weekend, all the relatives are on vacation. No children howling about. No non-stop ringing phone. I couldn’t be possibly let this one perfect holiday go.
I think I’d just decided to stick with my laptop and tried to make some letters appear on the computer screen, when it was suddenly time for lunch. Which was then followed with my daughter’s afternoon nap. Where I’d be needed to tuck her in her bed and accompany her until she falls asleep. Because she refused to be left alone. And would not let me read or write anything (because if I do, she’d do the same thing instead of sleeping). That, would take about half an hour.
When she finally fell asleep, my Mom had already fallen asleep to.
Some quiet moments in one quiet afternoon. Finally.
I sat in front of the TV, and start typing.
But I forgot that the second generation women in the family were not taught and brought up to live normal and enjoy their lives. A life worth living is a life where you suffer through it. Never ending house chores and lack of sleep is the most quoted example. Sleep, is not only a waste of time. It’s a sin when you do it in the middle of the day for more than 30 minutes.
Not long after I found something to write, my Mom woke up. And amazingly, while most normal human waking up feeling lightheaded and a bit dizzy and require 1-2 minutes to fine tune their coordinates with the world, my Mom (and most of the second generation women in my family), wake up, with a clear sense of objective, what to do right after they wake up. Clean this, clean that, and sorts.
So there was my Mom, waken up in full consciousness, heading right up to the fridge, and attempted to take off the waste water container.
I wondered whether she’d been dreaming of cleaning the fridge in her sleep to have such firm sense of objective right after she woken up.
She said she needed my help.
So I helped her with the water container and sat myself again in front of the laptop, when my daughter’s suddenly cried and called me from the bedroom.
And I know that my quiet moment has ended.
So that's what became of it.
Quiet moments.
Extremely. 
Difficult.


Pinggiran Jakarta, 6.30 pagi hari