Denial. Anger. Depression. Acceptance. I love you abah.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.

I think I have well mastered the Kubler-Ross’s model, having experienced the various emotional stages Dr Elisabeth noted in these last 10 days. Death is indeed a life-altering event. And I can’t imagine going through this again.

The initial mode of somber that followed….

Denial. How is it possible that this army man with his strict military routine - who would do chores and groceries when my mom lost her ability to walk, who would scold us when we were loud, who would tell us off when we are wrong, who had made tremendous sacrifice to leave his life in Kelantan to come to KL … goes this soon? It was only a couple of month’s back that I had an argument with him. It was a couple of weeks ago that he came and visits the house after my operation. And wasn’t it a couple of days before that the doctor said he could come home in the next 1-2 weeks? The last I saw you were on Thursday when you tried to open the cloth that they tied your hand to because you didn’t want to use the breathing mask, and I massage your back because you were not able to sleep. They told me that you were doing so well on Friday. So you can’t be gone the next day. Not that soon.

Anger. I felt that you didn’t even try to get better. You lost the appetite to eat, and with that the will to live. How can a person lose so much weight and until today, the doctor could not explain the symptom and cause. Abah, how can you leave us when I still could not give you grandchildren? Who would scold my children when they are naughty, or to instill discipline in them when they are a snob? Why didn’t you fight when your BP went down further, and further, until that heart rate was just a linear line. Don’t you love us enough?

And I was angry with others who I thought would be there to be my pillar of strength but was nowhere to be found. I was angry at the world for taking you away when there are so much that I have not done for you. There was so much rage about the very little time that we had together.

Depression. The final moment when everything began to lose meaning. I was busy with work, with toastmaster, with my other life .. that I never had enough time for you. If only I had finished work earlier on Friday to spend some quality time with you for the very last time, or not going to toastmaster on Saturday morning so that you can acknowledge this daughter of yours before they inserted the tube and sedate you for good. How can one person be such a workaholic when no amount of work and recognition can ever replace you? I chose not to talk to people who don’t bring meaning to my life. And I ignored everything, literally everything because the thought of anything besides our family-time just further demotivated me. And the same questions repeatedly haunt me, “Why didn’t i… Why wasn’t i… Why couldn’t i….Why… Why…”

I could be smiling and laughing when I’m with the family as we speak about fond memories of you, but I would curl back to depression when I am by myself or at the kubur when I think of you. Did I make you proud abah?

And finally, when reality hits.

A toastmaster friend reminded me of a speech I listened to on Saturday, very apt, about the 4 important word that I should never forget, “It’s gonna be OK”. And with that, I brave it through and decided to forge ahead in this new chapter of my life.

Acceptance. I bought a new book on happiness, something that Da and I have promised to start our book club with. And with that came many resolutions about making myself happy. I started to do things which I have put off for the longest time like gardening. And I am on the path on ticking off many more resolution; perhaps to put my mind off thinking of the many things I could not do with abah. 

And hey, i am coming back to work tomorrow after a long disappearance. Slowly, but surely. 

Yesterday my sister shared a photo of abah at the last Raya Haji, when the sharp edge of the parang accidently made a large cut on his leg when we were doing the korban. I was there and I remembered it clearly. He initially refused to seek medication because he wanted to be there throughout to supervise our ‘work’ at the slaughter area. He did not feel any pain and rush back to our table to ensure that cow meat were divided equally and the right plastic bag is used for the different parts. 

That was abah, always trying to take control.

You won’t be around to supervise us this year abah, but you have taught us well. We will carry the tradition in years to come in your remembrance and strive to become better person.

We will take care of ma and Rubi and fulfil your last amanat. 

I will only post of happy things about you after this. And the happiness project shall begin.