For the rest of my life—Maher Zain
“You’ll be surprised at how gorgeous I’ve grown up to, Eddy.” I smiled.
I swear to you, that moment, I did not cry. But I was trying dead hard to stop the tears from coming up, and as I spoke there was this lump in my throat. I tried to sound at least normal.
As a little girl Eddy loved pulling my ponytails, he used to say it made me look like an ugly puppy dumped by the roadside, the one nobody wanted. And when one day Ummi cut it short for fear of fleas, Eddy said I looked even uglier. Eddy said I looked like a boy.
I went out with Ummi on Saturday night. Girls’, where I bought a gorgeous handbag—Rock chick, ok enough of that. We were about to have dinner when I bumped into Yan, an old friend.
She has changed. Well, people change. I changed, too, and Yan barely recognized me.
She joined us for dinner and Ummi left the two of us alone. We talked over a great cup of Mocha and suddenly I asked, “How’s Eddy?”
Years ago there were 3 of us- Yan, Eddy and I. Eddy was the captain, Yan, his sister and I was the sidekicks. We were friends since births, and Eddy is one of my earliest memories in life.
Eddy was my first crush. My first love, I would say, though it was an unrequited one
(I guess).
Eddy used to tease me and said that I was ugly. And I remember once I would go to the playground where we always played, wearing my most expensive birthday gown—one in purple, my favourite. I even put on Ummi’s lipstick and some powder.
I remembered it all clearly because after that Eddy said,
“Ada! You looked like a girl!!”
The last time I saw Eddy, we were both 8. Then Dad got transferred and we moved from KL to Ipoh. My mom and Eddy’s were neighbours, and our dads worked in the same company.
I have to admit I used to miss Eddy a lot, but sometimes I tried to forget him, as he reminded me of an embarrassing past—a young, very young girl smitten with her playmate and tried hard to impress him.
Sometimes, however, I did wonder what happened to him.
And when all of a sudden Yan held my hand, and held it tight, I was nervous. She looked into my eyes and said,
“Eddy has passed away.” a pregnant pause there.
“Last year.”
It was so cruel that Yan had to be the one who delivered the bad news. She was the only one who knew that I used to like Eddy.
It was also cruel for me to have asked what happened to Eddy, her one and only brother.
When the words slipped out of Yan’s lips I could feel my heart stopped.
It felt like someone had snatched away something that has always belonged to you for a long time.
It felt like losing a toy, a bantal busuk or whatever that has stayed with you all along.
The day I was moving away, we lost our family cat, Ciko. We went all over to look for it, but it was to no avail.
Eddy was missing, too. He looked unaffected when he first knew that I was leaving, so I did not bother looking. (Everbody was busy with the cat)
Yan told me that she would write to me and make Eddy do so too.
She cried and blamed me for leaving, because now nobody would accompany her to take that crazy lady’s bus to school.
Eddy would, she said, have nobody to disturb on mengaji session at the surau.
It saddened me a lot that Eddy and I never met after that, though later, according to Yan, the company that our fathers worked for, sent him to Ipoh, too. Its a little unfair that our paths never crossed, knowing Ipoh, a small town.
The last few weeks of his life, was spent, in Ipoh.
January. He was involved in an accident. He survived, was in a coma for three days, and then regained consciousness. He was initially unable to walk, but he went for physiotherapy and all and recovered. His future looked bright. He had everything ahead of him.
Then one day, months after the accident, he passed out. A couple of hours later, he was pronounced dead.
It was a blow to the family. An old injury cost him his life. (I am no neurosurgeon to explain, but it was something to do with the brain.)
It has been at least 10 years since the last time I saw Eddy. I had no photographs of him, nothing.
The only thing I had of him, the most precious one, is a never-fading memory of a boy with a pair of large brown eyes and long lashes.
I cried my heart out that night, after Yan left.
I couldn’t sleep. I had dreams of him.
It was so beautiful that I managed to see him up close again.
Eddy, I miss you.
The next morning, Yan came to my place and picked me up. She said that her Ummi was, as she put it, dying to meet me, so she was bringing me over.
I asked her to drive me to the place where Eddy was laid to rest.
Again, upon my request, Yan left me alone.
This is the first time I ever experienced death of a close one, a death that deeply affected me. For some reason it made me realized the brutal reality of life.
After reciting some verses I talked to Eddy, and I told him how my life goes. The ups and downs, and how all those months I waited for his letters to come. Stupid little lass.
I talked a lot about myself, ( i know it sounds crazy) and avoid talking about us cuz it made me sad to reminisce ol’ times. He didn’t reply back (that would’ve been creepy) but I have to admit I would give everything in this world to hear Eddy’s voice once again, teasing me, calling me names, and saying that I was ugly and all.
I tried not to cry.
The memories were all coming back to me.
“You’ll be surprised at how gorgeous I’ve grown up to, Eddy.” I smiled, took a fine deep breath, wiped away the tears that smudged my eye makeup, and walked away.
At Yan’s, her Ummi hugged me so warm, it felt like I was hugging my own Ummi.
“You’ve grown up. Prettily.” She said, before leaving to the kitchen. When she came back, I saw that her eyes were red. She had been crying.
Yan showed me a picture of Eddy months before his sudden demise.
He was still the one with a pair large brown eyes and long lashes, and I felt that it was calling for me.
In another picture, there was the two of us, as toddlers, me and my long flowing messy hair and Eddy, curly hair standing next to each other, holding hands, looking like a miniature married couple.
In loving memory, Ahmad Zuhaidi Ahmad Zubir (1991-2009)
Al-Fatihah
“You’ll be surprised at how gorgeous I’ve grown up to, Eddy.” I smiled.
I swear to you, that moment, I did not cry. But I was trying dead hard to stop the tears from coming up, and as I spoke there was this lump in my throat. I tried to sound at least normal.
As a little girl Eddy loved pulling my ponytails, he used to say it made me look like an ugly puppy dumped by the roadside, the one nobody wanted. And when one day Ummi cut it short for fear of fleas, Eddy said I looked even uglier. Eddy said I looked like a boy.
*************
I went out with Ummi on Saturday night. Girls’, where I bought a gorgeous handbag—Rock chick, ok enough of that. We were about to have dinner when I bumped into Yan, an old friend.
She has changed. Well, people change. I changed, too, and Yan barely recognized me.
She joined us for dinner and Ummi left the two of us alone. We talked over a great cup of Mocha and suddenly I asked, “How’s Eddy?”
*************
Years ago there were 3 of us- Yan, Eddy and I. Eddy was the captain, Yan, his sister and I was the sidekicks. We were friends since births, and Eddy is one of my earliest memories in life.
Eddy was my first crush. My first love, I would say, though it was an unrequited one
(I guess).
Eddy used to tease me and said that I was ugly. And I remember once I would go to the playground where we always played, wearing my most expensive birthday gown—one in purple, my favourite. I even put on Ummi’s lipstick and some powder.
I remembered it all clearly because after that Eddy said,
“Ada! You looked like a girl!!”
*************
The last time I saw Eddy, we were both 8. Then Dad got transferred and we moved from KL to Ipoh. My mom and Eddy’s were neighbours, and our dads worked in the same company.
I have to admit I used to miss Eddy a lot, but sometimes I tried to forget him, as he reminded me of an embarrassing past—a young, very young girl smitten with her playmate and tried hard to impress him.
Sometimes, however, I did wonder what happened to him.
And when all of a sudden Yan held my hand, and held it tight, I was nervous. She looked into my eyes and said,
“Eddy has passed away.” a pregnant pause there.
“Last year.”
It was so cruel that Yan had to be the one who delivered the bad news. She was the only one who knew that I used to like Eddy.
It was also cruel for me to have asked what happened to Eddy, her one and only brother.
When the words slipped out of Yan’s lips I could feel my heart stopped.
It felt like someone had snatched away something that has always belonged to you for a long time.
It felt like losing a toy, a bantal busuk or whatever that has stayed with you all along.
*************
The day I was moving away, we lost our family cat, Ciko. We went all over to look for it, but it was to no avail.
Eddy was missing, too. He looked unaffected when he first knew that I was leaving, so I did not bother looking. (Everbody was busy with the cat)
Yan told me that she would write to me and make Eddy do so too.
She cried and blamed me for leaving, because now nobody would accompany her to take that crazy lady’s bus to school.
Eddy would, she said, have nobody to disturb on mengaji session at the surau.
*************
It saddened me a lot that Eddy and I never met after that, though later, according to Yan, the company that our fathers worked for, sent him to Ipoh, too. Its a little unfair that our paths never crossed, knowing Ipoh, a small town.
The last few weeks of his life, was spent, in Ipoh.
January. He was involved in an accident. He survived, was in a coma for three days, and then regained consciousness. He was initially unable to walk, but he went for physiotherapy and all and recovered. His future looked bright. He had everything ahead of him.
Then one day, months after the accident, he passed out. A couple of hours later, he was pronounced dead.
It was a blow to the family. An old injury cost him his life. (I am no neurosurgeon to explain, but it was something to do with the brain.)
*************
It has been at least 10 years since the last time I saw Eddy. I had no photographs of him, nothing.
The only thing I had of him, the most precious one, is a never-fading memory of a boy with a pair of large brown eyes and long lashes.
I cried my heart out that night, after Yan left.
I couldn’t sleep. I had dreams of him.
It was so beautiful that I managed to see him up close again.
Eddy, I miss you.
***********
The next morning, Yan came to my place and picked me up. She said that her Ummi was, as she put it, dying to meet me, so she was bringing me over.
I asked her to drive me to the place where Eddy was laid to rest.
Again, upon my request, Yan left me alone.
This is the first time I ever experienced death of a close one, a death that deeply affected me. For some reason it made me realized the brutal reality of life.
After reciting some verses I talked to Eddy, and I told him how my life goes. The ups and downs, and how all those months I waited for his letters to come. Stupid little lass.
I talked a lot about myself, ( i know it sounds crazy) and avoid talking about us cuz it made me sad to reminisce ol’ times. He didn’t reply back (that would’ve been creepy) but I have to admit I would give everything in this world to hear Eddy’s voice once again, teasing me, calling me names, and saying that I was ugly and all.
I tried not to cry.
The memories were all coming back to me.
“You’ll be surprised at how gorgeous I’ve grown up to, Eddy.” I smiled, took a fine deep breath, wiped away the tears that smudged my eye makeup, and walked away.
*************
At Yan’s, her Ummi hugged me so warm, it felt like I was hugging my own Ummi.
“You’ve grown up. Prettily.” She said, before leaving to the kitchen. When she came back, I saw that her eyes were red. She had been crying.
Yan showed me a picture of Eddy months before his sudden demise.
He was still the one with a pair large brown eyes and long lashes, and I felt that it was calling for me.
In another picture, there was the two of us, as toddlers, me and my long flowing messy hair and Eddy, curly hair standing next to each other, holding hands, looking like a miniature married couple.
*************
In loving memory, Ahmad Zuhaidi Ahmad Zubir (1991-2009)
Al-Fatihah
5 comments:
speechless.
i thought it was just a story.
i'm sorry..
takziah..
btw,
the way you expressed it, very interesting..
thanks.
well. writing it makes me feel a lot lot lot better thou.
aww im sorry to hear that. its sad kan to lost someone close to us. nak menangis i baca ni tau. T.T
hey, thanks for droppin by.
well. reality of life dear. i kne face jugak.
schu....dis one really sad.....
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