I don’t know how old I was when I started listening to Abang Fadil’s stories. A former national hockey player, big-sized, confident and a funny man with a strong yet warm presence; Abang Fadil was always the highlight when our family gathered together. He was a story-teller, whose tales would captivate you with its exaggeration and humour. I grew up listening to his advices and life lessons while riding at the back of his car every year for Eid or Raya with two of my closest cousins, Yayan and Syasya, the latter of whom is his own daughter. We were young then, and we would be upset that the older cousins wouldn’t hang out with us. But the three of us would feel a bit better because Abang Fadil would always say “Mel, Yan ngan Syasya… naik ngan Abang Fadil, kan?” Those days, Abang Fadil had the coolest cars, those cars that had small TV screens... it was such a novelty for me back then. So we would spend hours from Muar to Kota Tinggi listening to his favourite lagu dangdut or watching him tease my aunt who almost always falls asleep throughout the journey.

 The family would gather every Saturday and in an almost complete circle, laughter would echo through our walls as Abang Fadil would tell us the same old joke over and over again. Each one of us, the kids, the teenagers, the adults would be laughing with him. My parents, my uncles and aunts grew old with him, with memories of when he first masuk meminang for my aunt’s hand in marriage more than 20 years ago, to the moments when he was admitted into the hospital because of his diabetes a few months ago. For me and my cousins, we grew up listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes. With every moment that he was present, there was never a dull moment. He was the mood-maker, the energy-booster and in his own way, the one who always brought us together. He was loved in so many ways.

 Without realizing it, time passed us by. Abang Fadil was my favourite uncle, and I would like to think he is one of my closest uncle. And on 28^th November 2013, he passed away. 

When my cousin first told me of Abang Fadil’s condition, I was a thousand miles away in Cardiff, alone in my small room. It was so sudden; him missing, him being admitted into the hospital, him losing the capacity to talk, move and respond and him leaving us. At the core of everything, I just wanted to be home. I wanted to be with my family, cry together and be united in accepting God’s will.

And in those few weeks, for the first time in my life, I truly understood what being far away means. I finally understand why people say it is hard when you have to study abroad, because before this, I never truly understood what being away entails. Being away means that with every waking moment, you are spending each second alone without your family. A family member could get married, pass his exams, get admitted into the hospital, got accepted into university, got a new job, get into an accident, give birth to a baby… and all this could be happening while you are painting your nails, revising for your next exam, doing homework, eating lunch or even watching tv. Being away means that whilst your uncle is fighting for his life on the hospital bed, and when your closest cousin is crying and is in dire need of your support, you are unable to be by their side. 

What distance really means, I finally understood. We take for granted the distance, being able to be physically and emotionally present. My family spent a few days, attending to my uncle who was physically there but emotionally absent. My sister in Australia, my cousin in Aberystwyth and I who was in Cardiff, were emotionally united with our family but unable to physically be there. We spent hours praying, crying and worrying as did our family back home, but the fact that we were helplessly so far away made all the difference.  Kerana, bila kita diuji sebegini, tiada kata yang mampu mengubah keadaan, menenangkan fikiran atau menghentikan air mata, because moments like this, you can never find the right words to say. Tapi, bila kita dekat, when we are physically there, kata-kata boleh digantikan dengan doa, perasaan ribut boleh digantikan dengan pelukan dan tangis boleh dicurahkan bersama-sama. Bila kita jauh, when we are far away, we are more than helpless because bila kita jauh, tiada apa yang mampu dilakukan. For once in my life, I felt so far away. I couldn’t be there for my family in this time of grief, and I couldn’t see him one last time. 

I don’t remember the last time I saw Abang Fadil. I don’t remember the last time I kissed his hand. I don’t remember the last thing he said to me before I left for Cardiff. I do not know how my family is gonna move on from here, it seems like we are at a standstill. I don’t know how Raya is going to be from now on without Abang Fadil’s overpowering voice calling out “duit raya! Mari, mari, mari!” or when the ice-cream guy stops by our kampung and he says “Sape nak ais krim, beratur sini satu line!” I don’t know how our family gatherings are going to shape out without him. Things will surely change. After he took his last breath, my cousin whatsapped me “Mel… abang Fadil dah takde”. Receiving news of the passing of a loved one through a group chat is one of the most painful things that could happen. Emotions become reduced to flat words read through the phone screen and sadness reduced to emoticons. I cried myself to sleep that night thinking that I never got the chance to say thank you for all his generosity, his wisdom he shared with us, the laughter he provided us and the amount of joy he brought.

 I was taught to respect traditional values when it comes to family ties. I was born into a close-knit family, who I’d like to believe would do anything for one another when times are hard. We don’t say it out rightly but our actions speak for themselves. Bila satu daripada kami bernikah, kami dengan bahagianya mendoakan kesejahteraan hidup mereka sehingga ke anak cucu. Bila satu daripada kami hendak meninggalkan tanah air untuk menuntut pelajaran di luar negeri, kami ke lapangan terbang dan mengucup pipinya dengan air mata dan kata-kata semangat. Bila satu daripada kami melahirkan, kami gembira dan mencintai anaknya seperti anak kami sendiri. Bila satu daripada kami sakit dan terlantar di hospital, kami berkampung di hospital tanpa mengira waktu. Bila kami kehilangan salah satu anggota keluarga kami, kami rebah. 

Abang Fadil was my family member, my uncle who I’ve known all my life and an uncle I loved very deeply. Even now, I find it hard to believe that he is gone. But we have to be strong and accept God’s will, for on the day that he passed away it was not only me who lost an uncle, but a wife lost her husband, a child lost a father, siblings lost a brother, a mother lost her child and many lost a very dear friend. His presence is one that cannot be replaced. Abang Fadil, Mel doakan agar Abang Fadil tempatkan dengan orang-orang yang beriman. Maafkan jika ada tersalah kata atau bahasa dan terima kasih atas segalanya. One thing I know is that he lived his life giving joy to others and I will forever remember the happiness that he shone over us.  A man with such a prodigious presence will sure be missed. 

-as tweeted by my sister in law    

                                                                                                

I’ve always thought that we could live forever, my family and I, that time is somehow irrelevant and that nothing would change. But now I realize that the people I love and look up to are growing older each day and the people, like me who was once young  and afraid of letting go of our parents’ hands are now growing up. Don’t take for granted what you have now. Kita hidup ni, sekejap sahaja. I’m scared of waking up in the morning, knowing that every second we have in this world are numbered. Tonight, I recite Al-Fatihah for those who have left us, and I pray for strength… for those who are alive, for those who have lost and for those who are lost. Hidup ini hanya sementara. Kita terlalu sibuk dengan hal masing-masing sehingga kita lupa dan leka.

 Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom.

Tempatnya  lain, culturenya lain, orang-orangnya lain, percakapannya lain. Semuanya lain.

 

Banner:  dancingribbons

At the airport, my whole exended family were there.  They hugged me, kissed me, they tell me to “jaga diri”, “ingat Allah” and “belajar betul-betul”.  I don’t remember how many times I was reminded me of how lucky I am to have a father who has the will, the financial ability to send his kids overseas to get the best education. They said that it will be difficult, but I would have to stay strong, “Mel pergi belajar untuk diri mel, untuk ayah dan untuk mak”.   

Everyone gave their fair share of support and advices. Lia and Kak Jah was there all the way, they stayed with me for two months in the intent to spend as much time with me. My cousins, Syasya and Yayan, kept saying that they probably won’t come to PJ anymore once I leave for my studies. My eldest brother, Abang Long and my sister in law, Kak Ad, are psyched for me and are confident that I’ll have the best time of my life in Cardiff.  As they too studied in Cardiff a good six years ago, they helped me with my Visa, my accommodation, things I can’t seem to handle on my own.  My second brother, Abang Id, focused on the little things that other people normally brush off. He brought me out shopping, we went for foot reflex and he brought me for sushi. He was there for me in his own way. My sisters’ roles in this whole transition were vital. They were in a way, more realistic. They did not disregard the fact that it is going to be very hard in the first few months, but they said to me that everything is going to be alright. Mak and ayah are not worried, because “Kak Ida will be waiting for you at Heathrow”. 

Despite the fact that I have never travelled alone, the first part of the journey was relatively easy. When the plane landed, my sister Kak Ida, who has been entrusted by my father to help me settle in, was waiting for me at the airport. She saw me and waved, smiled and walked to me. I was still okay. We got hot chocolate and got on our ride and headed to Wales. The journey took us two hours. I was still alright. 

Once we reached Cardiff, we went to collect my keys. We found out that the place I will be staying for the whole year is quite far from the university.  20 minutes’ walk.  We got into my flat and met my flatmates. Semua orang situ. My room was relatively smaller. The whole day we ran around buying necessities. By the end of the day, I was tired, and I was not okay anymore. I was intimidated, I was scared, and it finally sunk  in that I am not home. All I could think of is how will I be able to survive three years here?  I remember waking up in my new room the next morning and crying when I saw Kak Jah’s whatsapp, asking me whether I’m alright there. Cried some more when I got an email from ayah. He said he can’t bear talking to me on the phone just yet. He confessed that he is not as strong as Mak. He said that if it were up to him, he would have me study back home, but he made a promise to himself to give his children the best education. In other words, he’s saying that goodbye is inevitable. He also wrote, “Always remember to be strong for me, for mak, and for yourself.”

If only he knew… two weeks before my flight, I was having doubts. I considered the prospects of just doing my degree back home. But I didn’t dare voice it out, because deep down, I knew I would regret it someday. It was a fact that this was for my own good. But it was also a fact that during the days leading up to my departure, I was crying in my sleep because I didn’t want to leave.  I had everything back home. I have a family, and relatives who loves me wholeheartedly, whom I love just as much. I had the great friends who I can always rely on. I had a driver to drive me around. I never had to worry about laundry or tissue paper or shampoo. I knew the malls, I knew where to go for good food. I knew the roads, the bumpers, the traffic lights. I memorised them all. But here, I don’t know anything, or anyone. I don’t HAVE anything here.

It’s funny how you take advantage of everything you have and you don’t even realise it.

Kak Ida did everything for me while she was in Cardiff with me. She lined up for me at shops, she bought me my cooking utensils, my stationaries, my toiletries; the smallest things I never had to worry about. She did most of the talking because I didn’t have the strength or mood to say anything. I had no appetite. I just wanted to take the next flight to Malaysia. On the night before her flight back to Malaysia, her last night with me, we went out for dinner. It is ironic that I only had the strength to cry in front of her when we were at a fine dining restaurant. I’m not good with expressing my problems or my emotions but she knew. She understands all the too well, the feeling of wanting to follow her back home, because four years ago, my brother sent her to Greenwich, and when he had to leave, she wanted to leave with him too. She knows the hopelessness, restlessness, anxiousness that clouds my heavy heart. She understands because she went through it. Heck, all my siblings went through the transition. That was probably the first time she saw me cry in a long time. And it was the first time in a long time that I cried in front of somebody. 

I remember our farewell like it was yesterday. It was harder than saying goodbye to my family at the airport because this goodbye will seal the fact that after this, I will be alone. It was raining. We were waiting for her taxi. The feeling when the taxi pulled up in front of her hotel, ya Allah, hanya Tuhan yang tahu. The feeling was excruciating. I walked away first, and when I turned back, the taxi left. I was left walking alone in the rain, restraining the desire to run and follow her home. Ya Allah, hanya Tuhan yang tahu what I was feeling at the time.

I am forever indebted to Kak Ida. I’m sorry that I was so quiet, that I had less than little appetite, that I seemed less appreciative. But I guess, to a certain degree, I was trying to be less attached. We both knew that you were going to leave me, and I was jealous. I was jealous that you were returning home to our family, to the things you knew while I am left with nothing here.  But as you said, you had your share of the hardships. You studied abroad for four years and at the restaurant you said, “my journey here has come to an end, it’s your time”.  The night before you left, I wanted to sleep with you at the hotel and watch movies together but I told you I didn’t want to because it’s going to be harder to say goodbye. I’m sorry and thank you. 

Two weeks later, I am sitting in my room and writing this blog post. Slowly, I’m getting used to the walking and the weather. I cooked for the very first time yesterday. My flatmates are nice. I’m meeting new people, slowly. It’s a process. It is definitely easier than the first few days, but it is still hard. People tell me that university life is the best time of your life and that I should enjoy it: Parties, drinks, new people, and ultimately freedom. But you see, I never needed those things. I lived everyday of my life on the confidence that when I wake up in the morning, the people I love are here for me. But now I’m so far away, the people I depend on so much are so so far away. Dulu, when I first started high school and college, whenever I had a bad day, I don’t feel half as bad because I always had people back home who make me smile and laugh. But now, whenever I feel like my heart is heavy, my knees are hurting and when I fall, I come home to a small room and that’s it.  Kat sini, takde my bestest friends, Liyana, Athirah atau Natalya, Payal or Amelia who I can go out for breakfast, lunch or dinner with. So, the question is now, what should I look forward to? Where do I go from here? 

I guess this is what people mean when they say “it is going to be difficult”. It is funny how we all think we are ready to grow up, but when it actually comes around, it is much more difficult than we ever imagined. It’s even funnier because I was never in a hurry to grow up. I was not fully ready yet. Maybe that’s why it’s harder for me. Trying to find your way around, trying to find friends you really blend with, trying to accommodate, trying to make the best of everything despite the hurdles you may have to overcome. Trying to find a reason as to why you’re here in the first place. I guess it’s safe to say that I have become too complacent to the things I had back home. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Maybe this is an opportunity for me to get out of my comfort zone, to try new things. Who knows?  All I can say for now is that it’s a process. I pray to God that I am granted the strength to overcome those hurdles and in time, hopefully, I will be able to find my ground here. 

Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom. 

It is such a beautiful city. The people are lovely. My classes are amazingly interesting. 

 Jadi, if you’re asking me how I’m doing now, I’ll say I’m alright. But hopefully, two months from now, I can say that I’m doing great. Insyaallah.