I attended a funeral today. The late Batun wasn’t someone very close to me, but we are related. And I just found out that she was my Mak Long’s ibu susu, which in my opinion is very, very noble indeed. I don’t think anyone is noble enough to split her milk between her own son and her niece nowadays. We’ve become so selfish and possessive of what is ours that we don’t want to share anymore.
I came to learn that she passed away peacefully while she was being bathed by her daughter-in-law and granddaughters. They didn’t even realise it until they carried her out of the bathroom to dry her. By that time, it was like she was sleeping but not breathing.
Al-Fathihah. Alhamdulillah, everything went very, very well. She is a very well remembered and well loved woman. No one cried too hard, which was a relief to me. While getting there, I imagined people clinging to her motionless body, crying their hearts out. And when that happens, that could only mean one thing – there are regrets; for things undone, unsaid, and for things said and done. And nothing of that sort happened today, which makes me very warm inside.
But I can’t help but notice that at every funeral, the kapan part is extremely painful to bear. Especially when you call in all the sons, daughters and all other Muhrim to see her face and kiss her for one last time. Maybe it’s because we know that we would never hear or see her again that makes us all so sebak. Because although I was never close to her, I felt tears stinging my eyes and drops of water wetting my cheeks as I saw the last of her peaceful face.
I don’t want to imagine what it would feel like... if... I just don’t want to think of it...
May she rest in peace. Al-fatihah.