It was 4.45pm at exact when Akak's phone rang with Mak's name appearing on her rusty hand phone screen. We were just about walking towards the parking lot giggling and laughing for some reason I can’t recalled. With the usual rush of suspense every time we received both Mak or Ayah's call, she picked up her phone trying to verbalize as proper as possible."Ati, Anis kau kat mane?..balik kampung skang jugak, atuk ko da meninggal dunia" Ayah shocked us with that short phrase, yet akak was in the state of confusion.."hah...atuk mane yah??" she foolishly asking. "Atok Razak kau la..atok mana lagi?" Ayah answered with a higher tone.."balik skang jugak ok.." that was his last words before he hung up. Akak looked at me and told me the same thing Ayah said with teary eyes and shivering voice. Immediately Atok's images flashed vividly into my mental representation, I was in complete shock and temporarily helpless of controlling my emotions, our eyes were wet of grief."jom nis, kite balik skang.."akak trying to control her emotion to think straight...I turned on the ignition, and rammed the car as fast as possible back to my house to pack our stuffs.
I was downhearted and disconsolate when we arrived home, rushing to pack our things, we immediately dashed out towards our cars. We were in silence all the way back, comprehending the turmoil in each others' head. We arrived Seremban around 6.45pm and quickly fetched some things at home mentioned by Mak earlier. After packing Mak's things we then rushed back to Jelebu. Jenazah Atok was still at his solitary stay in a place called Purun somewhere in Jelebu. We arrived just about after Maghrib and the place was full with close relatives and friends. Gloomy ambiance..I entered the place with very slow paces..Atok's cold body was wholly covered with kain batik and everyone surrounding Atok calmly residing the Surah Yassin continuously. I went to my grandmother and calming her.."bukak kain tu pegi tengok Atok awak puas-puas.." her mouth was still mumbling of words I can’t catched..I opened up the cloth covering his face not hoping to see the usual face who has always greeted me with silly smiles and serious questions. There were no words that could describe that moment. He was alone when he fell on his face and suffocating to breathe. There were bruises all over his face proving what Mak description of his death was right. As if he was paralyzed he didn't have the strength to get up on his feet again. It was said by the person who found him that he was in that position for quite some time, I can't bear knowing for how long..God knows..He wasn't breathing anymore, when found.
I kissed his icy cheek left and right and his forehead; I just can’t hold myself at that time and was silently bursting tears. Finally I got to hug and kiss Atok but my Atok wasn’t there anymore to feel me, there was only his stiff body. All his life, he has been a very strict person..He was a one in a million man. He went his own way with his usual military stubborn attitude and expressions. Atok was independent, he never showed his weaknesses to anyone even to his own family. It was his ego I assumed. At the age of 81, he would still wore his rugged shirt and jeans and drove his four wheeled drive Suzuki Pajero back to Jelebu from Seremban to take care of his kolam ikan and dusun buah. Three times he fainted while driving alone and the car recklessly smashed the roadside divider and again he was left alone unconsciously before someone stopped and checked on him. Silently I was telling myself that one day maybe Atok would carelessly spend his final moments similarly this way, indeed he did.
Tears and gloomy expressions escorted Atok’s departure that evening, Mak’s caught my attention. Never I have seen Mak in tears, she was always either laughing humorously or in anger of our foolish doings, but that evening witnessed Mak’s softer side. I was touched. Random thoughts of Mak crossed my mind, Mak brought us up with a different way of motherhood. She was not like any other mom, She doesn’t hug or kiss us or say she loves us. Not that she doesn’t love her kids, kissing and hugging are just not her things. Instead, everyday of her life she would woke up every morning at 5am without fail making sure everything was ready before we got up for school. Her life is about her family, to describe this is beyond words. Growing up I have always been the little rascal, hence the bruises on my thighs or sometimes hanger shaped red marks on my legs or body. Nonetheless, those marks would ended up as something interesting for me to share with some close friends at school and we would laughed our arse away. I have always been impressed of Mak for her patience of taking care of Ayah and each 7 of us. I also thank her for all the beatings; I grew up not being a sissy. On the other hand, I’m longing for her motherly touch. I want to know how does it feel to hug her and letting know how much she means to me, nothing I can do would trade the things she has done for me and the rest. It wasn’t only me, even the rest of us don’t have the guts to do it, all of us were more worried of her responds plus the feeling of uneasy doing something that is not usual to her. Truthfully, I think Mak is feeling the same way of us but her feelings are locked inside her ego of expressing her sensitivity to her children.
Never I blame her or perceived her as a failure in what she's doing. Every each of us have always understand her and we thank Ayah for his reasonable explanations and the parental advice that he has always guided us. He is the truest example of a father. Mak's anger is calmly soothed by his patience and loving. We are blessed with a father who is not only respectable by others but also sensitive of our feelings. I'm 28 this year, Abang is 30 and Akak is turning 29, by time our responsibilities as the leaders are getting practical and more obvious. Without noticing, I put a big loving hope in me and the rest to make sure that we all don't have to wait to see Mak in Atok’s condition to finally have the chance to feel her warmth.
I was downhearted and disconsolate when we arrived home, rushing to pack our things, we immediately dashed out towards our cars. We were in silence all the way back, comprehending the turmoil in each others' head. We arrived Seremban around 6.45pm and quickly fetched some things at home mentioned by Mak earlier. After packing Mak's things we then rushed back to Jelebu. Jenazah Atok was still at his solitary stay in a place called Purun somewhere in Jelebu. We arrived just about after Maghrib and the place was full with close relatives and friends. Gloomy ambiance..I entered the place with very slow paces..Atok's cold body was wholly covered with kain batik and everyone surrounding Atok calmly residing the Surah Yassin continuously. I went to my grandmother and calming her.."bukak kain tu pegi tengok Atok awak puas-puas.." her mouth was still mumbling of words I can’t catched..I opened up the cloth covering his face not hoping to see the usual face who has always greeted me with silly smiles and serious questions. There were no words that could describe that moment. He was alone when he fell on his face and suffocating to breathe. There were bruises all over his face proving what Mak description of his death was right. As if he was paralyzed he didn't have the strength to get up on his feet again. It was said by the person who found him that he was in that position for quite some time, I can't bear knowing for how long..God knows..He wasn't breathing anymore, when found.
I kissed his icy cheek left and right and his forehead; I just can’t hold myself at that time and was silently bursting tears. Finally I got to hug and kiss Atok but my Atok wasn’t there anymore to feel me, there was only his stiff body. All his life, he has been a very strict person..He was a one in a million man. He went his own way with his usual military stubborn attitude and expressions. Atok was independent, he never showed his weaknesses to anyone even to his own family. It was his ego I assumed. At the age of 81, he would still wore his rugged shirt and jeans and drove his four wheeled drive Suzuki Pajero back to Jelebu from Seremban to take care of his kolam ikan and dusun buah. Three times he fainted while driving alone and the car recklessly smashed the roadside divider and again he was left alone unconsciously before someone stopped and checked on him. Silently I was telling myself that one day maybe Atok would carelessly spend his final moments similarly this way, indeed he did.
Tears and gloomy expressions escorted Atok’s departure that evening, Mak’s caught my attention. Never I have seen Mak in tears, she was always either laughing humorously or in anger of our foolish doings, but that evening witnessed Mak’s softer side. I was touched. Random thoughts of Mak crossed my mind, Mak brought us up with a different way of motherhood. She was not like any other mom, She doesn’t hug or kiss us or say she loves us. Not that she doesn’t love her kids, kissing and hugging are just not her things. Instead, everyday of her life she would woke up every morning at 5am without fail making sure everything was ready before we got up for school. Her life is about her family, to describe this is beyond words. Growing up I have always been the little rascal, hence the bruises on my thighs or sometimes hanger shaped red marks on my legs or body. Nonetheless, those marks would ended up as something interesting for me to share with some close friends at school and we would laughed our arse away. I have always been impressed of Mak for her patience of taking care of Ayah and each 7 of us. I also thank her for all the beatings; I grew up not being a sissy. On the other hand, I’m longing for her motherly touch. I want to know how does it feel to hug her and letting know how much she means to me, nothing I can do would trade the things she has done for me and the rest. It wasn’t only me, even the rest of us don’t have the guts to do it, all of us were more worried of her responds plus the feeling of uneasy doing something that is not usual to her. Truthfully, I think Mak is feeling the same way of us but her feelings are locked inside her ego of expressing her sensitivity to her children.
Never I blame her or perceived her as a failure in what she's doing. Every each of us have always understand her and we thank Ayah for his reasonable explanations and the parental advice that he has always guided us. He is the truest example of a father. Mak's anger is calmly soothed by his patience and loving. We are blessed with a father who is not only respectable by others but also sensitive of our feelings. I'm 28 this year, Abang is 30 and Akak is turning 29, by time our responsibilities as the leaders are getting practical and more obvious. Without noticing, I put a big loving hope in me and the rest to make sure that we all don't have to wait to see Mak in Atok’s condition to finally have the chance to feel her warmth.
