I spent my Sunday in Johor Bahru attending the funeral of my aunt. It was an unplanned visit. Well, yes we intended to visit her but did not expect to attend her funeral. She was alive when we left home although we received news that her condition had worsened and she was in a critical state. Nobody said it out loud that she was leaving, who would anyway? We were at the Malaysian Immigration custom when we received the news. She died in the hospital. I was driving at that time and I turned around to look at my mum. I just had to see her face because it was her eldest sister who died. It was a natural thing to do. Mum was calm as usual and I really wonder what is it that will make her break. But nevertheless, who says still water has got no crocodiles?
Since I left home unprepared, I stopped by Danga Bay to buy myself a shawl. Lucky for me to wear a long sleeve shirt. I went for a quick shopping to match the shawl with my shirt and I drove straight to my aunt's house. The mood in the house was neither happy nor sad. It was probably because I was not in my late aunt's house. You see Diary, I have a few aunts living next to each other and I happened to go to the other aunt's house instead of my late aunt's. If I had been to her house, I was sure the mood was going to be different. Most of my teenage cousin sisters were already there since Friday. I have to admit that I was more than glad when I saw them. You know why Diary? I can say that I am the only female adult that does not wear 'tudung' in my mum's side of the family. That makes me feel rather out of place actually. That is also the reason why I do not fancy spending my time to socialise with relatives on my mum's side. Spending my time with them gives me nothing but awkwardness. My teenage cousin sisters were my saviour. There are four of them and all four of them do not wear tudung and having them around surely made me feel welcomed. It is not that I hate it but when you are the odd one, you cannot help but to feel left out sometimes.
My mother and my other aunties started discussing on the funeral and they understood that my late aunt last wish was to be buried on the same day she passes away. It was already four in the afternoon and most of the relatives from Singapore started to question if that was practical since it will be dark or almost dark by the time we were ready for the funeral. You see Diary, the culture in Singapore is usually if someone dies after 'Asar', he or she will be buried on the next day as long as it does not exceeds the stipulated time in Islam. Many of my aunts strongly agreed to carry out her last wish therefore arrangements were made to speed up the process. Mum and all my aunties went to the hospital to prepare for the funeral. They came back at six with my aunt's remains. Well wishers were given a last chance to pay respect to my aunt and I took this opportunity to do so too. I wore my shawl over my head not exposing a single strand of my hair. I walked over to her house feeling a little bit shy. I felt like the whole world was looking at me.
I really hate that feeling Diary. It is the same when I get a new haircut. Whenever I left the saloon, I felt I am being watched by every man that passes me. And I tend to look down afraid to make any eye contacts with the public. It is not such a big deal but it is what I always feel after getting a new haircut. So, the time when I had that shawl on my head, having not used to the situation of wearing a 'tudung' I felt so awkward and clumsy. I was angry with myself for having to feel that way. Have you ever felt like that Diary? I supposed when you have something on you that you are not used to, you cannot help but to feel that way, aren't you?
So there I was looking down while walking to my aunt's house alone. My other cousins were already there leaving me behind and I cursed softly at them for not waiting up for me. I managed to catch a glimpse of my aunt's face. She looked so calm and peaceful to my eyes. I knew she had been humble, kind and decent when she was alive. I waited for about a minute before I left the house. It was very quick and fast. Prayers for her were performed and immediately after that we were heading to the burial site. It was almost Maghrib when we got there. When they placed my aunt on the ground, the 'azan' was heard loud and clear coming from the nearby mosque. At that moment everybody remained silent. I remained silent too and a sudden feeling of sympathy started to embrace me. I felt very inadequate and inferior watching this very burial of my aunt. With the 'azan' in the background, I got the chill and I got this sudden feel of shiver in my spine. The 'Talqin' was read and I felt tears streaming down my cheeks. I buried my face with my palms and I looked away from the grave remembering the day when my late brother died.
I still remember how I felt at that time;nothing. I was too lost to feel anything. I didn't shed a tear, not until we had our first 'kenduri', not until a week after he was gone, not until I painted the house without him and not until we went out for family dinner for the first time after he died. The sadness will only sinks in later when you are alone and when the crowd is gone. The pain, the long and the miseries all felt at once. Almost unbearable especially when you have to remain strong for the rest. I looked at my cousin brother who was the only son my aunt had. He seemed lost too, lacking emotions and expressions. But he cannot lie with his eyes. I can see from his eyes what his heart was feeling. My deepest and heartfelt condolence went out to him. May he have warm words on a cool evening, a full moon on a dark night, a smooth road all the way to his door. May he always have walls for the winds, a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire, laughter to cheer him and those he loves near him, and all his heart might desires.
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