22 January, 2022

That morning, I sat for my final paper. I was exhausted, but at least it was over. I got home at 9 AM, thinking I could finally rest. An hour later, Babah came home too.

“ Boleh kakayang masakkan babah, ayam grill macam haritu ? ”

I didn’t think much of it. I just cooked. It was a simple request, and I was used to doing things for him. I placed his meal in front of him, not knowing it would be his last meal.

By 11 AM, my world turned dark.

It happened too fast. Too sudden. My eyes felt blind, my ears rang so loud yet heard nothing. No words came out. I was frozen, mute, deaf, in complete disbelief.

How could this be real? Just moments ago, he was here. Just moments ago, he's eating di ruang tamu. And now?

But in that moment, as fear gripped me, something else took over. I prayed. I prayed that if this was his time, Allah would take him quickly, easily, without pain or suffering. I was ready to let him go. I just wanted him to be at peace.

And then, he left. In my arms. With his last breath, I tried to guide him in syahadah. My voice shook, my hands trembled, but I held on. Until he was gone.

I don’t know how I found the strength. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe it was just love. Maybe it was just Allah’s will. But that moment will stay with me forever. It was the most painful, yet the most meaningful thing I have ever lived through.

It broke me in ways I can never explain. But even in that pain, I'm grateful. Grateful because Allah chose me to be there. To hold him, to comfort him, to guide him in his final moments. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced, but also the greatest gift Allah could have given me.

Al-Fatihah, Zulkarnain b. Kimsin.