How Do You Get Over Grieve?

How do you deal with the loss of a loved one?

Once, I care not about this question. Though a very long time ago, when I was 12 years old, I would often dreamed of my mother passing away and I would cry in my sleep.

When my father died in 2012, I was in a short bereavement because I could comprehend the fact that he died in a blessed way. It was Ramadhan, the holy month of Islam and it was also on a Friday, the day of all days. People said that if one passed away on Friday, means he is a blessed soul. I guess Abah was doubly blessed. Not only did he passed away on Friday, but it was the holy month as well.

Besides, at that time I still had my mom to think of. Not too long after my dad's passing, she fell ill so I had to take care of her. While working and taking care of my two young kids, I had my hands' full and not so much time left to grieve.

But after my mom passed on in 2013, it was too much to bear. Probably because I felt guilty for not taking care of her as much as I should. Probably because she was my mother, the woman who had given birth to me and took care of me since I was a baby. Probably because I felt like I had no one else to turn to, now. As a muslim, I was supposed to accept the fate that every living things will die including humans. From God do we come, to Him we shall return. I did accept the fact that she was gone and will never come back. However, the feeling of sadness...oh, God! Didn't seem to go away. Was it sadness, was it guilt, was it lost, I don't know. I was in grieve. That's all I know.

Immediately after she passed away, it was as if she had taken a part of my life along with her. My spirits died with her. I had no more passion to work, I had no more need for laughter, I couldn't even bring myself to take care of my kids. Everything just....died. It was a very dreadful feeling. Emptiness. Void. Something is amiss. That kind of feeling.

I realised that it took me almost two years to get over it. TWO YEARS! Throughout those years I prayed and prayed and prayed and I cried and cried and cried and I read the Quran and its translation, something that I had never done before.

So, how did I know that I had gotten over the grieve?

It was this feeling of peace that I could finally let go of my mom and her memories. Not forgetting. But letting go.

Now the cycle begins again, after my brother died. It was too hard for me. Probably the same ol' feeling of guilt, for not taking care of him enough, not doing enough and not trying hard enough. Probably all those sadness from my father's passing and my mother's came flooding back.On top of all that, I think was this feeling that I had no one to turn to, anymore. The attachment is not here anymore. It's gone. Like a lifeline that I've been holding on to, for many many years...and suddenly it's been cut off. Or like daylight that suddenly turns to darkness.

After almost four months, I am still grieving. Deep down inside, I am still in bereavement. Even though publicly, physically, mentally, I may not have shown the traces of grieve. I still am. Physically, it is taking a toll on my health. I've been constantly sick, subconsciously. Not really in my top form. Mentally I am in an auto-pilot mode. Not really thinking on my feet.

No, it is not something that we can turn on and off like a switch. It is something that we have to endure and only time would tell when we will get out of it. IF we would ever get out of it. Some people die in their grieve. They never did get out. So I'm praying for God to grant me peace. To give His Love and Kindness to get over this pain, this suffering, this grieve. Because I still have my husband and my kids who needs me. I still have to live this life, for myself.

In time, I'm sure, I will get over this grieve. "When?" is the question I can't answer. If God is willing, I will heal in no time.

How did you get over your grieving period? What did you do? How long did it take you to get over the loss of your loved ones? Mind sharing this with me. Perhaps it will also give me some sort of relief.

Moving Forward

Last year, in the midst of all the frenzy when my brother was diagnosed with the deadly cancer, I had to make a difficult decision.

You see, I did the Executive MBA some time in 2003. But I managed to pursue the course only for half a year, when it was a one and a half year programme. Last year, I chanced upon a MBA programme with the Henley Business School, in University of Reading right here where I live. The campus is just 10 minutes away from my house. They were willing to give me a 50% discount with a very attractive installment package. How could I say "no"? I have been putting it off for more than 10 years. It is something that I have been wanting to do in my life.

It was a difficult decision because when my brother was sick, I had to attend to him every alternate week. With the study, there may be times when I couldn't go and visit him.

Nevertheless, I took up the challenge. Life has to go on, right? At that moment in time, I thought to myself "it is now or never". Furthermore, the School provided us with online study materials and almost anything you can find, in their virtual library, online. The classes, which they call 'workshops' are done every once in two months and an assignment in between. So I guess it wouldn't be as hard.

I finally signed up for it and made the payment for two semesters. The first class started in February. Indeed, it wasn't so intense. They told us that they have revised the modules so that the whole programme will last for 2 and a half years. Meaning that I will only complete it in 2019. May God bless my journey.

Some things are just meant to be, when God says so.

Reflection #01

There are times when I feel like I have not done enough in my life. Even though I now have my own family with two wonderful kids, I have my own house that I call "home", I have a steady income and almost anything that I could ever think of.

Why is that so?

Most people would say that I am being ungrateful. I don't think so. I am always grateful for what God has bestowed upon me all these years. Since I was young, I have never lived a life of misery. My family was never "dirt poor". We would always have something to eat, a house to live in, clothes to wear (even if they were hand-me-downs from my cousins) and we were always able to go to school. Though it wasn't luxurious, we had what we need.

I have been thinking about what I'm feeling for the past few days. Looking back at my life, I realised that this feeling is not about 'what' is missing but it is about 'how'.

I was the second child in the family. More often than not, second child is labelled as 'The Rebels'. Probably because we do rebel a lot. But why we do that? It wasn't because we envy the first child. It wasn't because we wanted the attention. But it was because we were not given the attention that we were supposed to get. More so when the third or fourth or fifth child came along. The second would always remain as a second.

In my case, sadly enough, I was always compared to, against my elder brother by my mother. Not only in terms of education but also in terms of behaviors. Yes, I was the active one. Yes, I was the naughty one. Yes, sometimes words that came out of my mouth were unwarranted words, unworthy of being spoken by a child. Should I be punished and labelled as "spoiled" just because of that? Should I be denied of the attention and love that I was supposed to receive just because of who I was?

I've been trying in vain to let go of these ill feelings. At times, I am proud of myself for all the achievements that I have gained in my adult years. I am proud that I managed to score the same grades as my brother did, twice! Perhaps that's why sometimes I feel like I'm letting myself down. I put high expectations on myself! So, when I couldn't meet those expectations, of course I would feel bad and incapable.

No, this is not easy but I have to try and get it over with.

To all you parents out there, my plea to you is this:
Please DO NOT differentiate the treatment between your children. Each of them, has their own uniqueness. Just monitor and manage. If there is a need, change it individually so that they can become a better person. But down downgrade them against their own siblings.

Don't Turn Away

The sun is setting
in the horizon
the world is getting darker
my heart is beating harder

I can see you clearly
even with my eyes closed tight
a faint smile on your face
is what I can see
fading away with the remaining light

I hold out my hands
but I can't reach out to thee
and you look at me for a while
before you start to turn and leave

Oh please don't go...
I beg of you
Don't leave me alone in this darkness
For I don't know what to do

You stopped and approached me slowly
touched my face with your cold fingers
looked into my eyes and said to me gently
"I'm sorry, but I can't stay any longer"

Tears start to flow down my cheeks
My muffled cry made you take a peek
"Don't cry my dear, I will always be near
Just feel it in your heart and I will be there".

When I open my eyes the darkness has gone
Light is shining upon me from somewhere beyond
I know that you are gone and shall never come back
I'll cherish the moments and all the memories that we've ever had.

AMRI ROHAYAT - Part 4

Through the Lenses of a Sister

This may be the last...but not the end of our life story.

 

 

Good Natured and Intelligent

 

Abang was intelligent by nature. When we were in primary school and I’m talking about a very young age of 7 or 8, Abah subscribed a few comics on monthly basis for us. The likes of Beano and Dennis the Menace, if any one of you would recall? When we got home from school, we’d go after these comics. That’s where we started to learn the English language. 

 

Of course, those subscriptions came with a price. We had to excel in our studies. 

 

Abang was an avid reader. I think it was the genetics from Abah. Abah had this complete collection of the James Bond novels. Abang read all of them! Then Abah bought us a complete set of the Britannica Encyclopaedia. You know...the red books? Abang would read them and told Abah what he had read. 

 

At such a young age, he had this passion for science. He’d tell Abah about the stars and the planets that he learned at school. I’d just be the listener. As he grew up, among his favourites were Battle Star Gallactica, the Transformers and later on, the Star Wars. He would also watch the Bermuda Triangle. You know, all the mistery and sci-fi stuff. He was also the one who introduced me to the X-Files. 

 

Abang could play Scrabble with Abah since he was 8. I’d sometimes join them because Abah wanted me to learn. I tend to lose every time so I’d be sulking and didn’t want to play anymore. At times Abah would also get us all to play the Monopoly which I didn’t do any good either. I guess I was terrible at every thinking games except for the card game “Who’s at Home?”. 

 

He was also a good and obedient son. It was rarely, very rarely, that he would raise his voice to Mak or Abah. He’d do so at me, that is. Quite often, too. Huhu. Everyone loved him. Everyone adored him. 

 

But he was mischievous in his own way. Haha. Oh yes…he was!

 

There was a time when my cousin Chai came to stay with us. One day, Abah sent the three of us to watch a movie at the local cinema in Lepih town. They were showing Ultraman 7. After the movie, we waited for Abah. When he didn’t come to pick us up, Abang made a decision to walk home. It was quite a distance away. I think it was about 3km. Then we got to this sundry shop near Rumah Tok. 

 

This sundry shop was owned by two brothers, Panjang (the elder brother) and Hamzah (the younger brother) who originated from India. So when we got to Panjang’s sundry shop, Abang stopped to buy ice cream. Yes, Abah did give him some money earlier which I didn’t know of. He bought 20 sen ice creams each for me and Chai. He bought a 50 sen ice cream for himself! When I asked “how come?” he said there was not enough cash. Yeah, right!

 

There was also a time that he was caught red handed when Mak found out he had been buying food off credit from Panjang. Mak usually bought supplies from the shop using the ‘buku tiga lima’ (a small note book with 555 written on the cover. In the old days, this note book was used to record purchases bought on credit). One day, Mak came home shouting for Abang. I was so surprised because Mak rarely scolded Abang. 

 

Then I overheard Mak explaining to Wan that Abang had been buying things from the shop and had asked Panjang to write in that book. How clever. I’ve never thought of doing that. Later that night, when Abah came home, he was punished. Very rare, indeed! But I felt sorry for him. 

 

Those were among the very rare occasions when Abang was caught doing something wrong. Whilst me…well I’m with the Second Child Syndrome aka ‘The Rebel’. And everyone knows that. I was the spoilt one. 

 

Abang went on to become different in every way. At home, he rarely spoke. We rarely talked. We could hardly hear him laugh. The most he’d do was “Heh heh” with a wide grin on his face. But he got amused at things quite as easily as he could get irritated. He was kind of a serious person. 

 

When I got married, I bought pieces of cloths for Abah and my brothers to be made in Baju Melayu (Malay traditional clothes for the men). I bought some for him, too. And he didn’t wear it! Forgot to bring it home, he said. So he was the different one in MY wedding photo!

My wedding photo

Back in 2010, we had a Family Day in PD for the Ismayatim Clan. Each of the family was to wear a colour-themed clothes. Ours didn’t. When one of my cousins asked him “why?” he said “Oh, our theme is “individuality””. Heh.

The Individuals. Heh.

Religious Studies

 

Mak Long taught us to pray when we were in Kuala Atok. She was the one who made me my first “telekung” (prayer clothes). She’d take us to the surau almost every night. When we got back to Rumah Tok, sometimes we’d follow Tok whenever he prayed.

 

Tok would also taught us how to read the Muqaddam. The introduction to Quranic verses. Almost every night, after Maghrib prayer, Tok would sit on his sajadah waiting for us. 

 

If any of you would remember, those were the days when Six Million Dollar Man was aired on TV, at 8pm. Later on, it was Bionic Woman. So we’d quarrel on who would start reading the Muqaddam first so that we could go and watch the drama. If we were late, the drama would have ended. More often than not, Mak would have to dictate who could go and read the Muqaddam first. Otherwise, she would switch the TV off. 

 

After a while, I completed the Muqaddam earlier than Abang. When Tok asked me to take the Quran for a read, Abang was bawling. Haha. Among a few of my victorious moments!

 

We were also taught to fast at an early age. Mak would start us from as early as 6 years old. For a start, she’d let us fast for half a day. When we got older, we’d fast full day but maybe not the full one month. But she’d give us ‘incentives’ for the days that we fast. 

 

One of the perks for fasting was that we’d get to sit with the elders at the dining table. If we were not fasting, we got to sit on the mat, on the floor. Mak would also make us the bandung drink (syrup mixed with condensed milk) and cooked whatever dish we desired. Sometimes Mak would make the cendol and the soy drink. And we’d get a hefty ‘duit raya’ (money given to kids on Aidil Fitri) for the days that we had fast. 

 

Sometimes we would cheat. We could’ve accidentally drank or ate at school but we didn’t tell Mak about it. At home, we’d take a very long bath and while bathing we drank the water from the tap. But Mak usually knew of our tricks. Somehow, mothers were born with a device to catch naughty children. Hehe. 

 

When we shifted to the house in Jalan Tok Kaya Haji, Mak employed a Bilal to teach us how to read the Quran. This Bilal, whom we called ‘Tok Bilal Karim’ would come to the house every three days after the Asar prayer. Being naughty as we were, we tried to avoid being at home during those evenings. 

 

We’d tell Mak that we had something at school. Sports, curricular activities, extra classes and such. Then we’d come home very late in the evening. Once or twice, the trick worked. When we got home the Tok Bilal had gone home because he had to prepare for Maghrib prayer. Suddenly, when we got home as late one day, we were surprised to see him still there! Mak with her stern face shouted “Mengaji!” and we scrambled into the house to take our ablution and read the Quran. 

 

We knew of other religions because Abah had friends of various backgrounds. When it was Chinese New Year, we would visit his Chinese friends at their houses. If we were in Sungai Bakap, Tok Timah would ask us to send plates of cookies to the Chinese neighbours. They would return the favour by giving us sugar, Mandarin oranges and Ang Pow! When I asked Tok why did they give us sugar, Tok said so that their lives would be as sweet as sugar. We went to our Bengali friend’s house for Capati and our Indian friend’s house for Deepavali. It was all so merry. 

 

We were taught to respect each other since we were young. Abah would cane us if he got to know that we’d said anything vulgar or rude to our friends. 

 

 

The Pahang Club

 

Abang was not so keen on sports while I was quite active with the field sports as well as long jump. So I was quite surprised to know that he played Rugby when he was in SAS! I guess we didn’t take after Abah on that part. Perhaps we are bound to be more of bookworms than sports people. 

 

Abah was a true-blue sportsman. He used to be the Sports teacher at Clifford Secondary School. He played hockey and football. When he sprained his legs so often, he quit football and took up Tennis. Abah played Tennis for the State of Pahang. But none of us siblings took it up. Even though Abah did send me to a Tennis clinic, once. 

 

We used to follow him to the Club, though. It’s called Pahang Club. Kind of an elite place, in the old days. Heh. When Abah was out on the Tennis Court, we’d play inside the Club. There was a pool table and also a lounge where we could just sit or watch TV. Being kids, most of the times we spent our time running around the premise, chasing after each other or played hide and seek.

The Pahang Club. This photo was taken in 2013, when I went back to Lipis for a visit.

Those fun memories would forever be in my memory, for as long as God would permit them to be. 

 

My family, we are not affectionate people. Abah and Mak had never hugged or kissed us. Too disciplined, they both were. So we were not used to say “I love you” to each other. But we all know that we do. Blood is thicker than water, anyway. No matter how different we became, we are still from the same root.

Family...that's what we are

He became an Uncle when my daughter was born. The first gandchild of my parents. He was quite awkward at first, trying to hold that small baby. But you can see how amused he was right there, in this photo. Taken in 2006.

This photo was taken the day after Abah was buried. The Menteri Besar of Pahang came to visit.

The Ismayatim Family.

These two kids are like me and Abang. They could be the best of friends at times, couldn't live without the other and they fought all the time! Now I understand how Mak and Abah had felt then! Huhu. Abang adored them. They adored their Pak Long, too. Though sometimes they were scared of him.

The End.