Till Death Do Us Apart, In Death We Meet Again

Pak Long stared at her wife. Tears streaming down his wrinkled cheek. She looked so peaceful, like someone in a deep slumber. And it is heard, between his sobbing, “…It’s Heaven for you, dear…wait for me at the Gates of Heaven…”.

This was in July, after weeks of hospitalization, Mak Long exhaled her last breath. Her heart stopped pounding, and her chest no longer moving, to the beat of her breathing, for there was no breath.

Mak Long, was the love of Pak Long‘s life. She is to him, like Khatijah is to Prophet Muhammad. She, was the one who cared most for him. She was the one who held him up, when she was down. She was the one, his heart held dear to. Even my mother learnt on how to take care of my dad from her, and to that, I’m thankful.

Although Pak Long had a second wife, and kids who love him, none of those can surpass the unconditional love he shared with Mak Long. None can treat him, as well as she could. None can stand by him doing something like she did, although she disapproved of it all along.

Whose heart won’t break, upon seeing the peaceful face, covered in pure, white cloth, being lowered into her final earthly resting place. She was said to be as light as a child, that the men and women did not feel the burden of handling her. For that, we believe, that her husband’s wish was granted. It’s Heaven, for a wife who had served her husband well.

Love, is just a word, and do not do justice to his love for her, I dare tell you that. It’s a feeling, of living with the one who shared the same feeling he did onto her for most of his life.

Love, a mere 4 letter word, could not do justice to the feeling of coming home to a homecooked food, clean house and clothes, prepared by a loyal and caring wife.

Love, is what you say, when you cannot describe the longing feeling you have, even when she’s right there in front of you. It’s not lust. It’s not passion. It’s not even close. It’s all that, and a whole lot more.

But when you lost your true love, even the strongest of all men succumbs to the sorrow of the heart. Even the fiercest eyes shed tear, even the tight-lipped tremble. Pak Long, fell ill in a matter of weeks, after Mak Long left. He lost control a part of his body due to stroke.

Pak Long, for a man nearing three quarters of a century of age, did not have any health complications most other men much younger than him would’ve had suffered. His sugar level was normal, and so does his blood pressure. In fact, he was still in the payroll at that time. The only thing was, he had a growth in his head, quite large if I’m not mistaken, thus blocking his brain from functioning normally.

For more than 2 months, Pak Long was hospitalized. His children and wife, took turns taking care of him. At times he got better. Other times, he got worse. Once, he got to go back home, only to return a couple of days later.

It was during this time, he was said to say, “…even if I die, somebody’s waiting for me…”

The moment I heard this, I said to myself, this is the kind of love I should be looking for. And for that I asked my girlfriend this question. If someone, would promise me this, and kept to the promise all the time we’re together, I swear that I’ll make her happy, no matter what it takes. And I’m not saying “happy” as in the temporary laughter and giggle session couples do during dates, or newlyweds do during honeymoons, but the state of mind, where you’re whole with having me, and not wanting anybody else, and not needing to worry about me wanting anybody else for I won’t. I’ll provide her with everything I could afford, both worldly possessions and the whole of me, as long as she’s happy.

Last Sunday, I went to see him in HKL. He had lost the ability to speak, but actively mouthing the words he wants to say. He’s still paralysed, but he looked healthy nevertheless. He was planning to go home before this coming Raya, and for that, he is excited. When we were leaving, I observed at the way he was looking at my father, who was his best friend and his dear brother. There’s a clear message in his eyes, yet I can’t quite finger it. It was not grief, nor excitement. Even when I got to him before we left, he looked at me, but I can’t bear to look back. I just don’t know why.

On the 16th, he got the green light from the doctor to go home. He was said to be so excited, that didn’t even bother to dress up properly. His shirt was slung on his shoulder, covering his bare chest. He was happy, for God knows what.

About half an hour of reaching his house, he started to have difficulties in breathing. His sons and son in law, carried him to the car, and drove to the nearest medical aid.

Passing the cemetary, where Mak Long was laid to rest before, Pak Long took deep breaths, and exhaled. The chest never moved again. Upon reaching the clinic, he was pronounced dead.

Hearing this, I could not help but to imagine, that Mak Long was waiting for him at the cemetary. It’s hard not to picture them, walking hand in hands, towards the Gates of Heaven. Looking back, and smiled towards those who dearly loved them, and those whom they dearly loved. A smile, only love and happiness could draw across a face, and the twinkle in the eyes, only being with the love of your life could bring.

for Pak Long and Mak Long, Al Fatihah.