THE POST-FUNERAL FEELINGS

That Tuesday, Ma decided to welcome Mr.Narcissistic Sociopath’s mother’s acquaintance – who apparently is ‘gifted’. She turned out to be a nice person too, so okay.

Okay, I don’t know how to explain all of this, but I’ll try.

The moment I entered the room, our eyes locked and I felt…something eerie. She was ‘reading’ me, I was sure of that.

Then I couldn’t help it. I started weeping uncontrollably right in front of them all, which was unusual. I didn’t know why.

I think I’d scared them pretty much that day, because I don’t normally do that. (I hate crying in public, btw.) Ma started crying too while handing me Dad’s towel.

"Ssh, it’s okay. Don’t."

My sister’s eyes welled up as she leaned against my brother’s shoulder. My brother had been quiet, but his nose was turning red.

The psychic lady placed her gentle hand on my shoulder, waiting for me to finally calm down. Then she turned to Ma and said:

"She’s sensing what I can ‘see’."

My heart had skipped a beat. Somehow, I could feel that time was running out.

Daddy…

— // —

Anyway, the psychic lady wanted us to keep on praying for Dad.

The rest of that week had gone by in a hazy blur. I went back to work feeling empty. Everybody knew that I’d requested for a two-week leave to take care of Dad while Ma was away.

So, that had been the original plan.

That Saturday, Tony B. gave me a comforting hug before we parted (which was unusual of him.) Come to think of it, he sometimes sort of reminds me of Dad. He doesn’t say much but I know he cares.

He loves reading too, just like Dad. He lets me borrow his books and then asks me what I think once I have finished reading each of them.

Just like Dad.

That night, there were only Dad, Ma, and me. She said he’d been restless and anxious most of the time, so I recited prayers into his right ear – once in a while whispering: "Listen to me. Pray with me. I know you still can. Come on."

His mouth half-twitched a little. God, I hoped he was really doing it. His bulging eyes sometimes still darted right and left. Left and right.

His eyes were no longer dark brown like mine; they were dark purple. They stared vacantly, as if you weren’t there at all – or just a see-through being.

"Dad…"

We came face-to-face. I knew he could still listen to me – even vaguely – but he was looking at something else behind me. Through the reflection in his eyeball and the well-lit room I could see it. It was only a few split seconds, but it had been there that my entire body had grown ice-cold all of a sudden. I didn’t dare look back, because I knew I wasn’t supposed to look at it with my naked eye yet. I closed my eyes for a while instead.

Are you here for him? Please, be gentle.

I don’t know why I was thinking that. Maybe I was just tired or wrecked with worry – or both. Perhaps I was just imagining it, because the moment I opened my eyes again – whatever I’d seen behind me through the reflection in his eyes was gone.

The light. I’m not talking about the lightbulb in the room.

‘The light’.

Then Ma told me I could go back to my room and sleep once my brother had returned home.

Sleep?

 — // —

Still, I wasn’t really ready when that finally took place.

Ma woke me up that Sunday morning.

"I think Dad’s not breathing."

I followed Ma to their bedroom. I sat next to Dad and scanned him for any signs of breathing, movement. Anything.

Nothing. No.

I felt my tears starting down my cheeks already. My brother put a blanket and an oxygen mask on Dad. Still nothing. Dad remained still…and cold.

So unnaturally cold.

Ma was calling the doctor while I was taking a shower. It had felt like ages before I finally returned to the same room fully-dressed. Somehow, I chose black for the day.

Ma was sitting on the side of the bed, texting someone. Her eyes were puffy and her nose was red, but she was still calm when she saw me and said:

"It’s true. He’s already gone."

I stood by the door before her for a moment there. Then I returned to my room slowly and closed the door behind me.

That was when I finally bawled my eyes out.

The rest of that day was another blurry haze. People started coming over. More help was turning up. Families, friends, neighbours, people at work, acquaintances, basically everyone we know. They offered condolences and more. Ma and my sister always welled up whenever they said something to them.

Menti came up to me. With streaming tears, she said: "Your dreams have finally been answered."

I couldn’t help it; I lost it again. Menti hugged me and we both cried.

"Let him go, baby," she said. "He’s been in so much pain for too long."

My brother? He was the strongest, mostly because he had to be. Dad’s role as the head of the family has officially become his now. He’d only cried after we all finished preparing Dad for his funeral (washing him and clothing him in ‘kafan’/white cloth.)

After the funeral, we all returned to my family’s house. I didn’t plan to fall asleep easily and soon that night, but I’d crashed fast and hard on the living room couch – in front of our guests. I was in a two-hour deep sleep that nobody had the heart to wake me up.

That was the very first time I could really sleep like that in five years…

 — // —

The next day, we still had guests over. I didn’t go out at all.

At night, Ma and I were talking while she was packing her stuff for her umrah trip. She was admiring all the gifts her sisters and sister-in-law had given her for the trip. "A lot of them for me. I can’t believe this."

"Of course." I smiled at her. "You deserve this trip."

Ma fell silent all of a sudden. Then she burst in tears again. I immediately hugged her, trying hard not to cry myself.

"Hey, come on. It’s okay."

When my two siblings finally turned up, we ended up talking about Dad until sometime about four in the morning…

 — // —

January 21 – my niece Gira-ku’s first birthday. Happy birthday, baby. We love you.

January 22 – happy birthday, Tiger. Thanks for being a friend after all the shit I often put you through in the past. (Ma and crew had set off for Saudi Arabia on the same day.)

R.