You left us on a Tuesday. Only two days before that I saw you lying in your bed, in pain. You were sleeping when I was about to leave, so I did not want to wake you. As if you knew, you grunted at me as I turned my back, reaching out your hand. I held it as I kissed your forehead. That would be the last time. I will treasure that simple memory.
Sometimes its hard to hold the pain of grief, harder to remain strong for others, but for them I will remain strong. The last time we missed you so much was when you went to Hajj. I bawled like a baby then. This time I'll try to be strong.
"You need to be strong, to take care of Mum", you said to me when my Dad died many years ago.
You were a great example of that: Strength.
That was what we appreciated of you. And why we all miss you. love you, and respect you. We turned to you, the patriarch, when faced with difficulties and choices to make. Your children and grandchildren, they all came to you for help and advice. You were the expert in religion, medicine, massage, and matters of the heart. You were the ultimate social worker.
One of your last few gifts to me, was telling me about my culture, and how to appropriately take care of your Great Grandchild, Fikri, my son. You told me what to say when he was born, and the culturally accepted ways of disposing the placenta (as weird as it sounded to me then). You shared with me how you did it in the Kampung days (how scary it was), and for a moment the past and present were intertwined amongst your stories.
Strength is what we would celebrate of you: strength laced with compassion. Being firm and assertive, but at the same time compassionate in the face of people who needed help. Incidentally I had a conversation about you all the way in Australia. A story that originated from Mum. How you, without batting an eyelid, sucked out a Saga seed that was stuck in the nostril of one of the Kampung Kids.
"Yucks!" I said when I heard that story.
"Yes, it's disgusting," Mum used to say, "And your grandfather did it nonetheless, even though he barely knew this kid. He wasn't a relative either."
She told me this story one time when I berated her for being too involved in a friend's personal problem. She would say that it is important that we are of service to others. It is only proper that we do. This value you passed down through her to me. I will cherish that.
And you have passed it on to many others. I see it in the hearts of my brother, and my cousins. We live your philosophy, and we will carry this legacy in your memory.
So, you can rest easy.
Goodbye Yayi.
Strong Yayi.
Love you lots.
Fareez
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