Sad Sunday

Life is short. Very short. That's how I felt last Sunday, at dawn , when my hubby received the bad news. On the very dawn, we made our 4 hours drive to Penang hoping to catch the burial ceremony. We made it on time. We witnessed the solemn beyond the sorrow of the family members, especially Mohd. Ghouse and family. Ghouse, as how I address him, is my hubby's cousin and my former University colleague. I know how hurting for him to see his father's agony from this unfair disease, Cancer. I could feel his headache having to handle 2 sickly beloved persons at a time. His foster mother is currently suffering from similar terminal illness, now warded in Kuala Lumpur. He had been going back and fort between the 2 states. Along the line he himself once, succumbed to unexpected difficulty of expiration. He is given a great 'test' by The Almighty Allah. And on Sunday at 1.28am, The Almighty reduced his burden. God decided to take Ghouse's father back to where he belongs. Innalillahi wa inailaihiraji'un. May Allah bless his soul. We arrived Penang just about 10 minutes before the body was carried out of the house. My hubby and I followed to the well kept graveyard, reachable within 5 minutes drive from the house, wearing as appropriate Muslim attire as we could, attending the holy ceremony. No elegant monument built on any of the graves, as its not encourage in Islam. 'One comes with nothing and shall go back with nothing'. That's my own interpretation. It was hot and humid noon, but we had no complain. Mixture of sadness and relief seen on everyone's expression. The kids, being kids, continued having fun, meeting their other cousins and friends. Many relatives attended, marked such a good person 'this man' was. The burial ceremony was done in a regular Muslim manner, when a 'Talkin' shall be recited. Its a farewell tidings, projecting straight path to the soul. I saw Ghouse down under, next to the father's body, that led me to squeeze into the crowd for a closer look, out of curiosity. He himself recited the 'Talkin', on his father's last wish. That's every Muslim's wish too. Having a very own son to pray for one soul. Ghouse did everything that a Muslim father would have wanted from a good son. I'm proud of you Ghouse. Within 15 minutes, the body was fully covered with soil, the tomb neatly placed and a Frangipani planted next to the tomb, a Malaysian Muslim regular practice to mark the grave. Followed, flower petals and a special powder, 'Chendana', poured on the surface, producing sweet fragrance in the air. The orangy in color, 'Chendana' , is a substance from 'Chendana Tree', as informed to me by Ghouse, while he was pouring water mixture of the powder, on all the graves next to his late father's. Pointing at each tomb, Ghouse seems to know which belongs to who. Those were tombs of other close relatives. The rest of the ceremony were for saying goodbye. I wished we could stay a little longer to meet up with all the relatives, but we had to be back to our children in KL before dark. We were glad to have met many relatives, including my university friend. Ida, who happens to be Ghouse's wife. She is still looking as sweet as I could remember. Our journey back covered with unusual silence. A visit to graveyard is an unsaid word to the wise. I decided to listen to religious talk from my CD collection, replacing my regular Bob Marley songs, rested the car seat and grabbed a reading material, which comprehending to the situation. Up above, a flock of migratory birds were heading their unknown destination. I watched them and wondered about soul after death. As usual I could not hold myself from appreciating and capturing God's creations, along the way. We safely reached KL at around 8pm.