Our family portrait I strategically place near his bed in the hope if he wake up that will be the first thing he saw

 

Nearly 10 years ago when the struggles were so painful and challenging, I was a caregiver for my late husband. Nearly four months we were in and out of different Intensive Care Units. His last intensive unit was in the Cardiac Care Unit. A day before he left us the doctor transfer him to Medical Intensive Care Unit. You knew he will be leaving me when a doctor approach me and she said we had done all we can for him, she touches my hand and said we will open the main door today. If anybody had ever experience caring for love ones in ICU, that sentence was the most heart-breaking a doctor could said to a family member. Because with the main door ajar symbolize farewell. As you see ICU visiting hours are restricted to twice a day which was during lunch hour and limited evening then they will close the door (with exception for the early morning thirty-minute window from 6am to 6.30am). Those early mornings are very poignant for me as it is just the two of us in his room. I was lucky enough to have sympathetic nurses, they would pop their head from the door smiled and said we give you few more minutes okey. I nodded finishing my Yassin, whispered into his ears and said I love you while caressing his face and kissing his forehead. Then I stepped outside those ICU doors, sitting on the bench watching the sun rises slowly. Trying at best no to cry. I knew the symbolic door ajar slightly meant because I had seen many few times those main doors open regardless of the time. Instantly we knew that one of the tenants will be on their last hours here in this duniya. Then the hallway outside the ward will be full of family members paying their final respect and goodbyes. We the caregivers only concern was the emotional state of that affected caregiver. The slight trembling of the hands, the blank stares and trying to be strong façade. Deep inside those heartstrings were like in a tumble dryer being wrought and twisted multiple times, that silent painful cry that only you and allah swt knew. No sweet words would soothe the emotion on that exact time.

 

Its was heart-breaking to come to the ward everyday seeing him motionless with wires everywhere, hearing the sounds of the machines whirling and beeping. Truly I had never given up hope and having faith in allah swt that a miracle would be perform. At one point in time a few weeks before he passed away, I said to allah swt how hard if it was time for me to let him go but if its his plan please teach my heart the art of redha. Please allow me ya allah ya rabbi to cry as much as I want, to grieve and to break down. To please blew even a miniscule of strength into my shattering soul so that the new path that you had created for our family would make my steps forward into our new life bearable one step at a time.

 

One day I was sitting on the bench outside his ward looking so faraway blankly, there was this woman in her fifties sat beside me. I always call her Kakak (short for big sister, it’s the Asian respectful way of addressing someone much older than you). She was the caregiver for her mother that was next to my late husband room. She told me about her story of her journey taking care of her late husband that had lost his fight to cancer three year prior. He husband was an epitome of a fighter in her eyes. When he was first diagnosed with it, they fought it together and was into remission. But then not long after that the disease came back and was much more aggressive than the previous. They had lost the fight and he left her with their children. For years she would not bear to celebrate Eid Ul Fitri. Every Eid she would book a flight and get away from all the hustle bustle of festivities. She said Eid was her late husband favorite holidays. One day her mother said to her, come home, he would not want you to be like this. As she looks into her mother and her grown up children, the faces that had never judge her, that understands her pain and allow her to take her time to grief. She said she realized this is her new norm and she said she move on not because she had forgotten about her late husband. She will always have him in her heart forever. You cannot just forget the man that made you knew the meaning of a partner, a best friend, a wife and the man that made you become a mother to his children. We cried together on that afternoon.

 

Sometimes, it’s not about being broken. We’re so quick to blame ourselves when things don’t work out. But not everything is our fault. Some blessings just come later. Some seasons bloom slower than others.

 

That one afternoon turned into one of the most meaningful conversations I’ve had in a long time. She reminded me of something so important, that life has its own timing. That our pain doesn’t always mean punishment, and delay doesn’t always mean denial. So, if you’re in a place in life where things are hopeless — remember her story.

 

My late husband and I met in university. We were introduced by a known friend during orientation week. My friend Hj Emran told him do want to meet this amazingly pretty and the kindest girl I had ever knew? My husband said why not. My friend said came to the Hockey Astroturf field after hockey practice. As I stepped out from practice session (imagine all sweaty) we were introduce. We have the same circle of friends and he was that, just a friend. It took him up nearly a year to have the courage to say he liked me. Then the rest was history. He was my avid supporter, my biggest cheerleader and in him I found the confidence to be who I am today. In him I found my confidante and best friend. A man that had never raises his voice to me and our girls. I want one day my girls would find someone exactly like their father, that would treat them like how their dad treat their mother, like a queen. He had the biggest heart for me and his daughters. I never knew how tall he was until thar fateful day when the family was preparing for his funeral. It was on that day I knew he was six feet tall. I shall miss our morning rituals before heading for work. He would smile looking down at me (all my 5 ft 2in frame) hug me and twirling me in a slow dance in our bedroom before he planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

 

Sometimes, you wish the today you have now would be different. Wishful thinking - perhaps yes. How I wish we would grow old together seeing his twinkling light brown eyes creases with wise wrinkles, fulfilling those dreams and promises he made to me and the girls. But then it was never meant to be. One day you will realize everything will fall into place. To me our short journey together was very beautiful and it stayed long enough for me to be remembered softly. A story for those who loved fully, even when time didn’t let them stay.