I hardly ever wrote about this here, that we had been battling with cancer. Mama, my mother in law, had lung cancer that had been spread to her bone and, discovered later, her brain. It was August last year and already on the late stadium when we found out. We decided to fight together, as family. Mama was a cancer survivor a decade ago, why couldn’t she be one again?
She moved to our house and started series of scanning, consultation, chemotherapy, radiotherapy, medicines, days and nights of waiting and staying at the hospital, hours of being trapped in Bekasi-Jakarta traffic jams, everything which we already lost count of. They seemed never-ending and beyond exhausting, but Mama was one of the strongest persons I’ve ever known. She hardly whined and always had great sense of humor (spiced up with sarcasm that made us clicked). She prayed a lot, recited Al-Qur’an, and tried to live the fullest. People believed that we took care and supported her very well, but in a way, it was her that took care of us with love and things that just couldn’t be seen by everyone.
Until about two weeks ago, her condition got worse than the usual low point of her ups and downs. Her spirit was high for waiting another grandson but maybe her body just couldn’t take it anymore. She was barely able to breathe and sit. She got fever. She felt cold. She got tired of talking and sleeping. Last Friday, she went to hospital again and never came home. She passed away last night, naturally and in peace surrounded by her children.
Her body simply stopped working after almost 61 years.
I cried a lot. Come to think of it, I maybe cried more than those who are related by blood to her because for the past year we spent almost everyday together. I had more reasons to cry, to regret and to feel relieved.
I cried that she’d been in pain and suffering in her final year. I cried that she’d been trying to cheer up for us that we always assumed that she wanted to carry on and never really asked if she was tired of everything. I cried for missing the small things; everyday things. Small things that I took for granted like the joy of commenting and laughing together at what’s on TV, or being reminded for lunch because I was always too busy in front of the PC, or never having to think about what to cook every single day because she always had an idea (even with limited appetite due to chemo and stuff). I cried for, maybe, not spending more time with her, not having more conversation, not taking more picture together, or not praying hard enough for her. I cried to be relieved, that at last she can be at ease, as I always told her, “Mama, please do whatever that can make you feel comfortable.”
Last but not the least, I cried that she couldn’t see her grandson.
I must admit, this is one of the toughest weeks in our lives, mine and my husband’s. We’re expecting someone we love to come while letting another one to go. September 29 was my pregnancy due date. As expected, we spent the whole day in the hospital, only it was the ICU’s waiting room instead of delivery room.
View of September 29, 2016
Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’un
“We surely belong to Allah and to Him we shall return.”
We miss you already, Mama, and you will always be missed.
We would like to thank everyone for the prayers, supports and the heartwarming words. Thank you for all the kindness and good wishes. We can never thank you enough for everything :) We hope that we don’t take for granted the chances and time we have to be with our parents. May we always love them and pray for them.