The Saddest and Hardest Moments (V)

I was ten years old and on my third year, my dad got sick. It was diagnosed as heart attack and it was a hereditary sickness. I was picked up from school by uncle Cun, and went straight to Ciptomangun Kusumo hospital where my father was hospitalized. I met with my dad there; he was given an infusion from one of his arms. My father greeted me and smiled at me, I also met with my mom there, and she had always been taking care of my father. I could see that my mom was very shocked, but she had always been very patient and strong.

I couldn’t remember how many days my dad was hospitalized and finally was back home. We were so happy that my dad was back home. But being at home didn’t mean he was fully cured and healthy. He was still sick and had never gone to work since. Dad’s legs were swollen, maybe it’s the side effect of his sickness.
Dad became closer to god he never skipped his prayers. He sat to pray coz he wasn’t strong enough to stand, he was too weak and couldn’t do sport any longer. Dad used to play badminton.

That was not going on for long my dad had to be hospitalized again but this time at Islam Hospital at Cempaka Putih. The days were so hard besides it was so costly my mom also had to take care of her three children my younger sister Ade, the youngest son Iyan and my self, as the other two children were in the village Payakumbuh west sumtara, my elder brother Epi was taken care of by my dad’s mom in Maur where else my younger brother Iwang was taken care of by my mom’s mother in Manganti.

My mom had to go back to hospital everyday, it took about 30 minutes from my house, while she was not at home, my maid took care of us and the house, thank god we had a very trustable maid, we called her ”Bibi” and she was like family to us. Mom wouldn’t worry with the kids since the house was always full of people. Dad was visited by our families and relative in Jakarta, as we are the big family, and also by his friends. I didn’t go to hospital every day but quite often.

My dad should have got a heart operation, but it’s not that easy to get a heart operation at that time since there were not many hospitals which had enough facilities and specialists as it is now yet. And we had to queue or register the patient’s name to the hospital first and wait for a few weeks or months to get our turn. Even we had to kind of lobby the nominated doctor in order to get our name registered or on the list. I didn’t remember the doctor’s name that was supposed to lead the operation but my uncle told me that he had met the doctor and tried his best so my dad could be prioritized even though my dad had never really had the chance after all.

At midnight I was waken by my mom’s screaming and crying. It’s about 2 AM in the morning on Monday 8 August 1981 I was about ten years old. I was trying to guess what’s happening. I was so afraid and worried that my guess would be right, I really hoped I was wrong. Mom kept crying and I also heard mom screaming so loud saying ” Don’t leave us, how am I gonna live without you with the kids. I got up of the bed and saw my mom struggling, creaming and crying so loudly. I was like passing out, I know I was still a kid but I couldn’t stop crying, I saw my dad’s dead body was lying stiff in the living room, my late father must have been taken home by the ambulance I guess “INNALILAHI WAINAILLAIHI ROJIUN” our beloved dad had passed away. He was only 37 years old when he died.

to be continued...