Hamdan, an ex-colleague, went out with his family of 4 teenage kids and wife, for an outing to town. Just for window shopping or eating out as a family unit. Six went out but only five returned home. It was a tragic loss. While Hamdan, his wife and youngest daughter were at the fourth floor of the shopping complex browsing books at the book store, the other three siblings asked for permission to check out the sixth floor where there was a Youth Centre. The other two siblings could not comprehend what actually happened. Hadi, the second son (19 years old), suddenly dashed out and ran after something that the other two could not see. They ran after the brother but he had jumped over the waist-high wall and fell into a heap onto the second floor. They took him to the hospital where he was in a coma for one night and died without gaining consciousness. I taught him when he was in Form Three. He was studying at UniMap, Perlis. It was accidental and sudden death. There was just no explanation why he did it. Imagine the other two siblings who had to live with the fact that they witnessed his jumping for apparently no reason but could not stop him. The guilt, the helplessness, the futile calling out to stop him .... I cannot imagine the nightmares. Imagine the parents blaming themselves for letting them go up to the sixth floor. An innocent outing but a tragic outcome....
Rosli, another colleague used to be jovial, funny and always teasing everybody with his dry humour. He went out with his two sons to the mosque for Isya' prayers. He parked the car opposite the mosque. The second son was fourteen years old. Of course he would not want to take his father's hand to cross the road. Anyway, Rosli crossed and assumed his son was behind him. He turned back to check out his son and found him lying on the road, hit by a car. Imagine his feelings, shock and disbelief. When he came back to the school, he changed into a quiet, withdrawn guy. Once, when I had time alone with him, he asked me if he was crazy as he went to "talk" to his son's grave everyday since his burial. I assured him that it was normal because I did that for two years when my father passed away. He smiled and thanked me as I believed that he was not going crazy. He said that among his four children, this son was the most loved and he was also in a tahfiz school instead of the feeder school.
Everyday is not promised. It is to be appreciated. No sense of hating or feeling resentful. Take one day at a time ....
You will never stop grieving. If I watched any drama or movies with a suffering or dying parents, I would cry as if I was back in the years of losing my father. I finally learned to let go of him when I understood what it meant by "he's alive in my heart". He never actually left me ....
We have read so many stories and some were actually about people whom we knew. Thus, my fellow reviewers of this blog .... take everyday as a bonus. Take everyone as if it is the last goodbye .... if we meet again, Alhamdulillah ....
To my friends - Hamdan and Rosli ... take all the time you both need to grief. Appreciate and be grateful. Take one day at a time .... ;-(
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