This coming September marks the first year of Ayah's passing.
I'll be honest, I still haven't moved on.
It's already been a month of staying here in Subang.
Every morning. EVERY, morning, I would sit in front and imagine Ayah parking his Camry outside after his morning rounds, getting out of the car and dragging his legs inside.
And then he would ask, "Waaa, wangi nye masak apa tu.. Bukak kedai nk?"
It's tiring.
It's tiring but I can't get my mind to stop the loop.
It hurts cause I'm putting so much effort to hold these tears when I know, it's not gonna work.
They'll burst anyways.
It's like torture trying to sleep at night.
Ibu gave me her room to sleep cause I have a big family and she said her room was too big for her.
Every night I would picture Ayah doing his writing on this bed and with his tired face, he would put his glasses down and sleep on his arm.
And then there's his working table.
That big table where he spends most of his life writing and finding inspiration on his laptop.
I hate that its next to the dining table.
I can still see his focused face, doing his research, doing his work and then suddenly BAM, the printer gets a full beating from him for being too slow in printing.
Everything about me is inactive, unproductive, useless but the one place in me that never sleeps, that's my mind. My whole life is inside it.
When Ayah left us all, those memories of him that I buried deep while he was alive (mainly because we were never that close, but we both changed and tried to patch things up but time was never on our side), suddenly rose from the dead. So when he died, his memories lived like nobody's business. It scares me but at the same time, its like having more time with him only I know its just inside my head.
Enough.
Assalamualaikum.