Facebook has this thing where they share memories with you. It pops up on my phone with a notification saying you have memories with so and so. This morning after sahur I saw that i have a memory with Marina and Marisa. I thought it it must one of our holiday photos. I swiped the notification and I saw photos of a wedding I attended with my sister. I scrolled down and I saw that Marisa wrote on my wall five years ago . She wrote "Hi Mum!". Me being me, I couldn't control my tears . This morning, on the second day of Ramadhan I was greeted by daughter whose soul is free during this blessed month.
I never really appreciated Ramadhan till I was much older. I always thought it was all about refraining oneself from eating and drinking from sunrise to sunset. Never felt that it meant more till I started going for terawikh. I have to admit I'm not one who went to terawikh in my younger days. I have little girls, Marisa and no maid. No one was going to wait for them. So it was always Mazeed and Mazhar who went. When the girls grew a bit bigger and Marisa was matured enough to mind them I started following the men.
I would put the three girls in one room fully equipped with TV, iPad, iPhone , their books etc to ensure that they do not leave the room while we're gone. Marisa would sit on her chair with her favourite TV show and the two would either be playing or be glued to their iPads .I always tell them " Kakak is in charge. You must listen to her." When we got back, Marisa would give me a summary of the two hours and I'll put the three girls to sleep. Marisa was always a responsible sister even if she actually needed the girls help more than they needed hers. She knew she was the eldest and I never allowed her to be or feel any less.
I on the other , sometimes am overwhelmed by my life and need some time and space. I found this especially during Ramadhan when I go for my terawikh. The mosque is so peaceful eventhough its filled with people. I find a space and make it just mine and God. It's my time with Him where I'm uninterrupted and where I'm most at peace. I needed it when Marisa was alive and I need it now to make sense of life and to move on.
The morning greeting today is a reminder of how much she needed me. She didn't have many friends , had a handful of cousins who loved her unconditionally and her life was surrounded by just that. She never failed to remind me how much she loved me and this morning's greeting was also a reminder of what I have lost. I miss her but in truth she didn't have much of a life in this world. She couldn't do much and she was ill. I really wish I could say "Hi" and give you a hug but all I can do is pray for you. For the rest of the family,I pray for strength as this is our first Ramadhan without her. I have a feeling Syawal will be harder but I must hope for the best .Even so, I'm so blessed to be surrounded by people who loves me and I must not forget that.
I usually blog when I think of Marisa. It's how I share my memories and talk about my relationship with her. I worry about 'over writing' about her but then a friend of mine told me the readers have a choice whether they want to read it or not. True...... i never thought of it that way. For me , my readers are my shrink!! I've never been good at talking to people directly about how I feel so writing is my form of therapy.
Life is funny . When I was a teenager, I disagreed with my parents about everything. Always fearing the father daughter conversations with my dad. Now I realised he did that because he knew that I wasn't going to have much time with him. My dad died when I was 19 and my daughter died when she was 18. I still remember his lectures and I actually miss it . I was his baby. Being 6 years apart from my third sister I was always the only child left with my parents and I could say I'm the spoilt youngest daughter. I still have my mum so I'm going to spend as much time with her.When we got back the first thing I wanted to do was to eat nasi lemak and visit my mum.Going to my mum's is like going to a therapy party. My sister will have tons of food prepared and we sit on the dining table catching up on each others life while stuffing ourselves. We're not ones who cares about our diet and we really love food. There's a swinging door that separates the dining room and the kitchen in my mum's house. Izarra was in the kitchen with the younger girls baking cookies while the adults sit in the dining room. I was busy telling my mum about the trip and how it felt to go without Marisa. She was the reason we go back. The flight isn't too long, the cool weather and a great place to wind down and relax. She loved the food in Australia as is an avid follower of Masterchef Australia. Always requesting for me to cook and bake for her.As I sat there talking to my mum I looked into the kitchen and felt that loss.The loss of her presence when Izarra entertains her while I get some adult moment. Suddenly i lost my train of thought and kept quiet and my mum said "Selalunye Marisa would be in the kitchen baking with the other girls." I could see that my mum was wiping a tear from the side of her eyes. I can see that my mum misses her dearly too. I always go to my mum's because Marisa is so well entertained by her cousins especially Izarra. She loved food as we all do and Izarra would always oblige to baking anything for her. This time only the little ones were busy and there was no Marisa, no wheelchair. It's another one of the moments that it hits us that she's gone. Conversations continued as my sisters and I always talked over each other and that moment actually lasted not more than a minute yet i could feel how deep it affected my mum and me. Cookies arrived on a table and we continued eating and moved on to the next topic. The space that occupied Marisa remained empty and I realised that how it's going to be from now on. This is my last night here. I've been here 7 days and I finally went to the hospital where Marisa had her two major surgeries. The apartment is only two blocks away and we pass by the hospital everyday but going there is something I've been postponing. This whole trip was planned with her. I bought the tickets online with her just before she passed away . We decided that it would be good if her sisters knew where she had her surgery. We could show them where we stayed, where we ate, the hospital and everything we did in that time .I did it exactly what we planned but just without her. The place is pretty much the same as it was 9 years ago. That was when she had her last surgery and the doctor told us that there was nothing else he could do and it's best if we left her as she is. That was the time when we stopped actively helping her medically and focused on her living her life to the fullest . Her happiness and her life became our priority. I postponed the visit to the hospital to the last. Not sure how I'd respond to reliving the memories of the most testing time of my life. The hospital is still the same. The entrance , the reception, the gift shop. The cafeteria is renovated with the same vending machines that I frequent while she was in the hospital. The truth is I couldn't hold back my tears.I walked the hallways and memories flooded back in. The 10 hour surgery, ICU, post surgery, staying in the hospital for two weeks and watching her closely waiting to see improvements and praying so hard for the surgery to be a success. I would say it was , it bought us time with her. Physically she was not much better off but it bought us precious memories which I still carry with me. I couldn't get myself to go to her ward. It was too much. I walked out and headed towards the park where I used to push her and had a quick cry. I do that. Have a good cry,compose myself and move on. That is how life has to be . Moving on as life doesn't stop even when it feels like so sometimes . Mazhar is familiar with the place and the two girls love it. All we've done is go the beach , hang out at parks and playgrounds and eat. I love holidays because the family is 'forced' to be with other. We spent all day talking , laughing, chasing each other at the park and getting to know and understand each other better. The most important thing about this trip was that I explained to my other kids about their sister, life , love and death . The loss of their sister is not something to dwell on but to be remembered. What I realised from this trip was that Marisa existed but she herself never lived a full life. And I keep asking myself how would I feel if I were her. I still don't have an answer. I just know that she was so brave, so patient and such a good daughter. This trip feels like a chapter of my life that I'm reliving with my other kids . I'm on another chapter now but it's so good to know that I can always go back and remember her by. |