Keluar dari RS langsung menuju rumah. Udah sangat lelah, jajanan pinggir jalan menggodaku untuk menghentikan roda mobil. Baiklah, merapat.. Pempek, martabak keju, martabak telur, mantap!

Nyampe rumah disambut adik-adik dan bapak. Apdet kondisi terkini mamah sambil bongkar koper dan berbagi oleh-oleh. Ini adalah moment paling seru ketika mudik. Sayang, ada yang kurang, mamah. 

Aku pisahkan oleh-oleh untuk beliau. Sedihnya, beberapa barang dan makanan yang kubeli tak tersentuh tangan mama hingga akhir khayatnya 😭

Lewat dini hari, aku mencoba memejamkan mata. Tapi otak ini terlalu sibuk. Mataku terpejam, tapi pikiranku berlarian. Hingga akhirnya jam 3 baru tertidur. Azan awal jam 4 lebih berkumandang. Aku terbangun. Ini yang tak bisa kudapatkan di Inggris. Badan ingin bangun tapi mata terlalu berat untuk dibuka. Yang kudengar bapak siap-siap ke masjid. Begitulah beliau.

Sedari azan awal ia terbiasa bangun. Mandi, berpakaian terbaik, kopiah, bikin minuman hangat dan bersiap ke masjid sebelum azan berkumandang bahkan.

Azan berkumandang, aku terbangun. Ini salah satu hal yang paling aku rindukan saat di rumah mamah. Suara azan terdengar jelas karena jarak rumah dan masjid hanya selemparan batu. 

Bapak sudah ke masjid, tinggal aku sendiri. Ada yang kurang. Biasanya mamah duduk di sofa samping kasur sambil mengaji menunggu waktu subuh, atau subuhan dulu baru mengaji. Subuh itu tak kudengar lagi suaranya. 

Usai sarapan, kami berkumpul, membahas banyak hal. Hari ini bagian aku jaga di RS. Sebetulnya kemarin aku janji pada mamah mau balik lagi malam itu sekalian menemani adikku. Tapi aku terlalu lelah dan beberes hingga terlalu larut. Alasan lainnya, kakak beradik ini harus aplusan jaga mamah, jadi harus fit.

Pagi itu aku jaga mamah. Kita cerita banyak. Apdet banyak cerita, dariku dan dari mamah. Kondisi kesehatan mamah lebih ke sesak napas dan posisi tidur yang kurang nyaman. Sehingga beliau harus bolak-balik posisi badan kiri kanan bergantian. Adapun tindakan medis berupa nebu/uap, oksigen dan obat-obatan. Seharian itu adalah momen aku dan mamah, berdua saja. Sekalian beristirahat di RS yang senyap, jet lag pula. Jam besuk ada saudara datang, ini jadi ajang silaturahmi.
“Nu jagana orang Inggris, euy!” haha
(yang jaganya orang inggris nih!).

Sorenya ganti shift.

Kangen!

Waktu hampir dini hari, adik kami mengabarkan sesuatu. Rasanya beda, sepertinya kalian harus pada ke sini, deh, lirihnya. Terutama bapak. “Mamah kangen bapak,” katanya.

Kebetulan kami masih berkumpul dan memutuskan untuk merapat ke TKP. 8 seater mobil, full. Bapak, anak-anak, mantu dan cucu. Sementara itu saudara lainnya yasinan bersama-sama dari rumahnya masing-masing.

Ada rasa yang aneh di hati, tapi kami harus tetap tenang. Agar bapak tidak panik.
“Ada apa ini? Kenapa besuk jam segini? Mamah gak kenapa-napa, kan?”
“Gak, gak kenapa-napa. Cuman mau antarkan minyak kayu putih dan pempers ini,” ujar kami.

Sampai di parkiran, aku dan bapak turun sementara yang lain tetap di mobil sambil kuberi kode agar tetap yasinan (membaca surat Yasin).

Dalam sepi aku dan bapak lewati lorong rumah sakit. Senyap, tak ada orang yang lewat, hanya kami berdua. Kita lewati satpam penjaga. Jelaskan maksud tujuan. Kayu putih dan pempers hanyalah kambing hitam agar ada alasan.

Tiba di ruangan mamah terjaga. Ia kaget gembira melihat separuh jiwanya. Begitupun dengan bapakku. Rindu yang selama ini tertahan dilepaskan. Bapak mengelus rambut mamah. Mengelus tangannya, juga kakinya. Mamah mengelus manja. Meleleh rasa hatiku.

“Gimana,” aku berbisik pada adikku.
“Tadi mah asa menghawatirkan,” ia ingin menjelaskan sesuatu, tapi sepertinya tak bisa. Tapi aku paham, karena rasa itu aku rasakan pula ketika aku jaga mamah. Kita tahu sama tahu ada rasa yang beda. Tapi tidak dengan bapak.

Rasa itu selalu kuhalau. Ku buang jauh-jauh. Dalam bahasa sunda “kila-kila”.

Kami sekeluarga tetap berpikiran positif dan berharap besok mamah pulang.
“Kumaha mah?” tanya bapak ceria.
“Masih ada engap (sesak) sedikit,” ujar mamah pelan.
“Sing sabar. panan besok juga pulang kan ya?” tanya bapak.
“Iya, kayaknya mah sih,”
“Ya atuh, reugreug kalau gitu mah,”
*reugreug – tenang hati.

Disela mereka ngobrol tak henti tangan bapak terus mengelus mamah. Lebih dari setengah abad mereka habiskan waktu bersama. Dalam suka dan duka. Dalan senang dan sedih. Dalam kondisi ekonomi terpuruk dan menanjak. Dalam sehat dan sakit. Dengan segala kekurangan dan kelebihannya mereka. Mamah yang bawel, bapak yang diam. Mamah yang detail, bapak yang serabutan. Mamah yang makannya pilihan, bapak yang makannya apa aja. 

Pendek kata, mereka bukan pasangan yang sempurna, tapi saling melengkapi, saling menyangangi, tak bisa dipisahkan. Misal ketika kami gathering dan mengharuskan menginap di luar kota, meski bapak ingin, tapi kalau mamah gak mau/gak bisa, mamah lebih baik stay di rumah.

Mamah pernah cerita dulu. Bapak suami siaga. Mamah lima kali melahirkan, bapak selalu jaga malam, memastikan mamah tidur cukup selama masa menyusui dan mengurus bayi.. Makanan selalu ada saat tengah malam. Lain kesempatan akan aku cerita hal ini.

“Jadi kumaha? Bapak nginep di RS malam ini, gak?” tanya bapak.
“Jangan ah, kasihan bapak, nanti bapak tidurnya bagaimana?” jawab mamah pelan.

Di ruangan itu ada satu sofa panjang, dimana akan dipakai adikku ketika ia tidur. Belakangan aku tahu bahwa itu adalah sofa bed yang bisa diluruskan.

“Oh, yaudah atuh, panan besok juga mamah pulang, kan, ya?” bapak menyakinkan mamah.
“Iya, mudah-mudahan.

Dalam keheningan malam itu bapak memeluk mamah dan mencium keningnya. Nyes.. hatiku tambah meleleh. Akankah ada pertemuan lainnya bagi mereka? Akankah ada belaian kasih dan ucapan sayang diantara mereka? Pergerakan kehidupan milik Allah. 

Malam itu mereka berpisah. Mamah tampak senang dan tenang. Begitupun bapak.

“Aman ya, Pop?” bisikku pada si bungsu, ia mengangguk, tapi aku gak tahu apa yang ada di hatinya.

Langkah kami memecah sunyi di tengah koridor sebuah rumah sakit di Jalan Kopo Bandung. Rumah Sakit yang mengimpan trauma untuk bapakku. Lain kesempatan akan aku cerita hal ini, insyaallah.

Tiba di parkiran, kami masuk mobil. Ipar, dua adik dan dua ponakan memberikan kode seolah bertanya, apakah semuanya baik-baik saja? Aku menganguk. Mobil melaju pulang di jalanan kopo yang lenggang. Sebuah pemandangan yang tak akan kamu jumpai saat pagi, siang, sore, hingga malam dibawah jam 9.

Malam itu kami tidur larut.

Senin, hari ketiga. 

Kami harap ini hari terakhir mamah di RS. Sedari pagi aku wara-wiri mengerjakan banyak hal. Pulangnya kembali ke RS. Dokter visit. Zonk! Ternyata mamah belum bisa pulang hari ini. Mamah sedih, aku juga.

“Ya.. kirain teh boleh pulang hari ini,” ucap mamah.
“Nanti besok besok dievaluasi lagi, ya?” dokter memberikan harapan.

Jam jenguk kerabat dekat datang, membawa rantang 4 susun berisi lauk-pauk beserta nasinya full.
“Masya Allah, mah Tasqin, banyak aman?” ujarku.
“Ini mah buat yang jaga,” ucap beliau.
Lah, ini mah cukup sekeluarga! 

“Nah buat nenek mah ini,” ia berikan kerang buah ukuran besar.
Mamah penasaran sama isinya.
“Mamah mau buah naga?” tanyaku.
“Ah gak suka,” jawabnya.
“Pear?”
“Gak suka,”
“Belimbing?”
“Gak suka,”

Pertanyaan terakhir ini pasti ia bakal nyamber secepat kilat.
“Duren?” tanyaku.
“Tah eta!”
Hahaha.. Pada ketawa kita. Tentu saja itu hanya pertanyaan jebakan dan tak bisa kami laksanakan haha..
Melihat mamah tertawa ceria aku yakin besok mamah pulang.

Aku buka salah satu rantang.
“Apa itu?” tanya mamah.
“Wow.. udang krispi,” jawabku, “mamah mau makan sama ini, ya?”
“Sok nyobaan,” jawabnya semangat.

Satu, dua kuberikan padanya. Tambah nasi, ia makin lahap. Padahal selama di tiga hari ini nafsu makannya gak bagus. Mungkin karena makanan RS flat gak berbumbu kuat. Paling hanya garam. 

“Nambah lagi mah?” tanyaku.
Oya mengangguk. Lagi dan lagi. Makan minta udang krispinya digado (tanpa nasi).

Aneh, padahal kemarin-kemarin gak mau makan karena alasannya gak kuat ngunyah yang keras-keras.
“Nenek nanti mau dibawain apa lagi?” tanya kerabat kami.
“Nenek mah pengen sate,”
Lah!
Bukannya dinasehati, malah dikomporin.
“Iya nanti dibeliin sate Damri,” kata kerabat kami, “Nanti saya suruh si kakak sina ke ujung berung beliin sate,” ujar besan mantu penuh semangat.

Obrolan jam jenguk itu begitu hangat. Mamah makan banyak dengan menu yang tak biasa. Siapa sangka ia sedang sakit jantung dan pneumonia. Semuanya tampak baik-baik  saja.

Satu lagi dokter visit masuk. Ia ditembak mamah.
“Dok, saya boleh makan sate?” ujarnya lantang.
Kami pada ketawa. Dokter sedikit bingung.
“Boleh, kalau cuman satu mah. Kalau belinya banyak harus bagi-bagi sama kami,”
Jawaban dokter disambut tawa.
“Masa satu, kalau lima gimana?”

Lah, si mamah ngeyel. Kan, gak kayak orang sakit kan?
“Euh.. dua la yah,” jawab dokter kayak yang lagi tawar-menawar barang.
Mamah cukup puas dengan jawaban Pak dokter yang manis dan selera humornya tinggi itu.
“Wah.. bantalnya bagus ya?” ucap dokter sambil memeriksa mamah.

“Nenek, saya pulang dulu ya. Ini buat beli sate atau duren nanti kalau nenek udah sembuh,” kerabat kami mengepalkan amplop padanya..
“Mih, nitip amplopnya,” ucap mamah selepas kerabat kami pergi.
“Siap boss!”

Selain sate, kere raweuy adalah makanan yang mamah idamkan sejak kemarin. Percaya gak? Pagi sebelum jaga, aku ubek2 pasar nyari itu kere raweuy. Makanan apaan sih itu? Kere adalah daging yang dibumbui dan dikeringkan. Tapi dagingnya yang berlemak dan disisit manual, bukan yang digiling.. Emang selera makan ibuku di atas rata-rata orang kebanyakan meski usianya sudah 81.

Beliau gak pernah berpantang makanan. Ikan asin, babat, jeroan, sate berlemak, duren dll semuanya dilahap.

Hari beranjak sore, aku ganti shiff.

Malam Tiba, Kangen Kembali

Malam itu kami berkumpul bersama, seperti biasa. Mereview hari ini dan merencanakan esok hari. Karena dalam setiap harinya ada saja kejutan-kejutan yang terjadi sehingga plan A, B, C bahkan D kami miliki. 

Alhamdulillahnya, aku merasa bersyukur banget punya keluarga yang solid, guyub. Mamah pasti bangga di “alam sana”. Mamah bapak memang tinggal berdua, tapi anak keempat rumahnya berseberangan, anak ketiga rumahnya berdampingan. Malah terhubung dengan konekting door ruang tamu dan garasi adikku. 

Si bungsu memang agak jauh, tapi kapanpun diperlukan tinggal di calling, pasti langsung merapat. Sedangkan aku, si cikal aya (anak sulung yang ada), jauh di negeri orang. Tapi aku pastikan tiap tahun pulang. Bahkan ada masa pulang ke indo dua kali dalam setahun. Prinsipku, selama masih ada orang tua, wajib pulang! Karena itu adalah momen berharga bagi kamu juga bagi orang tuaku. Aku ingin berikan memori baik untuk orang tuaku.

Saat ngumpul malam itu telfon berdering.”
Wa, ada yang kangen nih?” ujar ponakanku di seberang sana.
“Siapa, teh?” tanyaku.
“Ini nenek kangen opung, ceunah,”

Wah.. baru juga kemarin dielus-elus heuheu..
Begitulah mereka, begitulah kami. Love language kami memang seperti itu.

Oiya, aku baru sadar sekarang ini kan jam tidur mereka berdua. Sebelum tidur mereka suka saling elus. Waktu mamah sehat, bapak yang dielus mamah. Bahkan sering bilang,
“Cangkel, ngusapan wae si bapak!” haha..
Saat mamah sakit, bapak yang balik ngusapan=ngelus, sampai mamah tertidur dan merasa nyaman.

“Bilangin bentar gitu teh, opungnya masih di masjid, bentar lagi juga pulang,” jelasku.

Mamah tahu betul jam-jam kegiatan bapak. Tak lama, bapak pulang. Udah kayak anak remaja yang pacaran dan saling kangen. Sementara anak-anak dan cucu-cucunya kayak besti-bestinya mereka gitu.

“Pa.. pa.. Cepet.. Aya nu kangen yeuh!” ujar kami penuh antusias berlari ke teras rumah.
Mereka bertegur sapa mesra dan hangat sekali.
“Si bapak meni kasep,” ujar mamah.
“Uhuy!” anak – cucu menimpali.
Semetara bapak senyum-seyum ganjen hahaha..

“Bapak, mamah meni kangen,” ucapnya lewat layar hp.
Kami meleleh tapi malah sorak sorey dan cie..cie.. in keduanya.

Tapi tahu, gak? Saat aku ngetik ini aku nangis, senangis-nangisnya. Masih kebayang wajah itu. Wajah penuh harap. Ah! Seadainya kami bisa menangkap sinyal itu.

“Kumaha atuh, bapak kadinya ayeuna?” jawab bapak penuh cinta.
(gimana dong? Bapak kesana sekarang?)
“Ulah ah, karunya (kasian),”jawab mamah pelan, “udah malam,” lanjutnya.
“Yaudah, usapan lewat layar hp weh, ya?” ujar kami saling sahut menyemangati keduanya.

Uhuy! Penonton rame berkomentar. Sementara itu bapak ngelus-ngelus hp aku yang menampakan wajah mamah full. Ia iseng, idungnya mamah di puter-puter haha..

“Ulah kitu atuh ngusapanna, pa,” ujar kami.
(jangan gitu dong ngelusnya pa). Dia tahu apa yang biasa dia lakukan untuk istrinya. Kurasa candanya untuk menghilangkan rasa sedihnya. Biasa mereka bersentuh kulit. Kali ini hanya bisa mengelus hayar hp saja. Duh, air mataku netes lagi nih! 😭

“Cium atuh.. Cium atuh..,” kami mengompori mereka.
“Muacchh.. ,” aku sodorkan layar hpku pada mulut bapak.Sementara itu Hp Febi di RS sana ditempelkan di kening mamah.
Awwh.. sweet banget sih mereka.

Cukup lama mereka berinteraksi.

“Udah ya, nenek istirahat dulu,” kata Febi.
“Iya, lagian besok juga mungkin pulang, ini udah hari ke-3 kan,”bapak menyemangati. “Besok juga kita ketemu, sok, dug, bobo?” bapak beri kata perpisahan.
Sweet!

Bapak lepas kopiah, baju koko dan sarungnya dan masuk kamar lalu rebahan. Sementara aku, adik-adik, ipar dan dua keponakan masih ngumpul di ruang tamu.Selang beberapa jam. Kembali telfon masuk dari Febi.

“Ya, gimana teh? Nenek aman?” tanyaku curiga.
“Ini dokter mau bicara katanya, wa,”
Dokter? Kenapa ya? Belum juga aku bertanya, tetiba hpnya dimatikan.

Kami di ruang tamu jadi penasaran. Apa yang terjadi?

Tak lama masuk pesan WA, isinya kurang lebih harus ada keluarga yang datang besok pagi, ada masalah dengan ginjal mamah. Suasana jadi was-was. Tak lama berselang, kembali telfon berbunyi, kali ini suster ingin bicara. Kami berbicara banyak hal. Malam itu juga kami yang ada di ruang tamu itu seketika merubah set planning. Sungguh dinamis dari hari ke harinya. Dari jam ke jam nya. Febi pulang, ganti aplusan, hire tetangga yang biasa jaga mamah.

Malam itu kami deep talk, se deep deep nya. Ini kali pertama kami ngobrol/diskusi/curhat. Banyak insight yang didapat.

Bersambung…

=======

English version

Five Days with Mum

Leaving the hospital, we headed straight home. I was exhausted, and the street‑food stalls were far too tempting to ignore. Alright then, pull over. Pempek, cheese martabak, egg martabak, perfect!

Arriving home, I was greeted by my siblings and dad. We updated each other on mum’s condition while unpacking the suitcase and sharing gifts. This is always the most exciting moment when I come home. But something was missing, mum 🙁

I separated the gifts meant for her. The sad part is that some of the things I bought never made it to her hands before the end of her life.

Past midnight, I tried to sleep, but my mind was too busy. My eyes were closed, but my thoughts were running everywhere. I finally fell asleep around 3 a.m. The early dawn azan sounded at 4 something. I woke up. This is something I can never get in England. My body wanted to get up, but my eyes were too heavy to open. I heard dad getting ready for the mosque, that’s just how he is.

From the early azan, he always wakes up. Bathes, puts on his best clothes, his kopiah, makes a warm drink, and gets ready to go to the mosque even before the azan begins.

When the azan echoed, I woke up. This is one of the things I miss most when I’m at mum’s house, the azan sounding so clearly because the mosque is only a stone’s throw away.

Dad had already gone to the mosque, leaving me alone. Something was missing. Usually, mum would sit on the sofa next to the bed, reciting Qur’an while waiting for dawn prayer, or she’d pray first then recite. That morning, I didn’t hear her voice anymore.

After breakfast, we gathered and discussed many things. Today was my turn to stay with mum at the hospital. I had promised her the night before that I’d come back to accompany my sister, but I was too tired and ended up tidying the house until late. Besides, we siblings had to take turns caring for mum, we needed to stay fit.

That morning, I stayed with mum. We talked a lot, updates from me, updates from her. Her main issues were shortness of breath and discomfort when lying down. She had to keep switching positions from left to right. The medical treatments included nebuliser, oxygen, and medication. The whole day was just me and mum, quiet hospital, jet lag, and rest. During visiting hours, relatives came. It turned into a little family gathering.

“Nu jagana orang Inggris, euy!” 

(“The one looking after her is from England, eh?”)

In the evening, shift change.

Near midnight, my sister messaged. Something felt different.
“You all should come, especially dad,” she whispered. “Mum misses dad.”

We were still gathered, so we decided to go. An 8‑seater car, full. Dad, me and sisters, in‑laws, grandchildren. Meanwhile, other relatives recited Yasin from their homes. There was a strange feeling in my chest, but we had to stay calm so dad wouldn’t panic.

“What’s going on? Why are we visiting at this hour? Mum’s okay, right?” asked dad.
“She’s fine. We’re just bringing eucalyptus oil and pads,” we said.

At the car park, dad and I got out while the others stayed inside, continuing to recite Yasin.

In the quiet of the night, dad and I walked through the hospital corridor. Silent, no one around, just the two of us. We passed the security guard and explained our “reason”. The eucalyptus oil and pads were just an excuse.

Entering mum’s room, she was awake. She was startled and happy to see her other half. Dad too. The longing they’d held back was released. Dad stroked her hair, her hands, her feet. Mum stroked him back, gently. My heart melted.

“How is she?” I whispered to my sister.
“Earlier… it felt worrying,” she said, trying to explain but unable to.
I understood.I felt it too when I stayed with mum. We both sensed something different. But not dad.

I kept pushing the feeling away “kila‑kila”, as Sundanese people say. We stayed positive and hoped mum would go home the next day.

“How are you, mah?” dad asked cheerfully.
“Still a bit breathless,” mum replied softly.
“They said you’re going home tomorrow?”

“Yes, I think so.”
“Alright then, that makes my heart calm.”

“Reugreug.” — peaceful heart.

As they chatted, dad never stopped stroking her. More than half a century they’d spent together, through joy and sorrow, hardship and ease, sickness and health. 

Mum the talkative one, dad the quiet one. Mum the detail‑oriented one, dad the scatter‑brained one. Mum the picky eater, dad the “eat anything” type. They weren’t a perfect couple, but they completed each other. They couldn’t be separated.

Mum once told me dad was always a “suami siaga” — a standby husband. Through five births, he stayed up at night ensuring she slept enough while breastfeeding and caring for the babies. Food was always ready at midnight. I’ll tell that story another time.

“So how? Should I stay overnight at the hospital?” dad asked.
“No, you don’t have to. Where will you sleep?” mum replied softly.

There was a long sofa in the room actually, but my sister used it to sleep. Later I learned it was actually a sofa bed.

“Oh alright then, you’re going home tomorrow anyway,” dad reassured her.
“Yes, hopefully.”

In the quiet of that night, dad hugged mum and kissed her forehead. My heart melted again. Would there be another meeting for them? Another gentle touch? Another loving word? Life moves only by Allah’s will.

That night, they parted. Mum looked happy and calm. So did dad.

“You okay, sis?” I whispered to my youngest sibling. He nodded, though I didn’t know what was in his heart.

Our footsteps broke the silence of the hospital corridor on Jalan Kopo, a hospital that holds trauma for dad. I’ll tell that story another time, inshaAllah.

At the car park, we got in. My in‑law, siblings, and nephews looked at me, asking silently if everything was okay. I nodded. The car drove through the quiet Kopo road, a sight you’ll never see in the morning, afternoon, or evening before 9 p.m.

We slept late that night.

Monday — Day Three

We hoped it would be the last day and mum could go home, as she had in previous hospital stays. I ran errands all morning, then returned to the hospital. Doctor’s visit. Sadly, mum couldn’t go home yet. She was sad, and so was I.

“I thought I could go home today,” mum said.
“We’ll evaluate again tomorrow,” the doctor reassured.

During visiting hours, a close relative arrived with a four‑tier food carrier filled with dishes and rice.

“Masya Allah, mah Tasqin, that’s a lot!” I said.
“This is for the carers,” she replied.
Honestly, it was enough for the whole family.

“For grandma, this one,” she handed over a huge fruit shell. Mum was curious.
“Do you want dragon fruit?” I asked.
“Don’t like it.”
“Pear?”
“Don’t like it.”
“Starfruit?”
“Don’t like it.”

The last question. I knew she’d react instantly.
“Durian?”
“Oh yeah!”
We burst out laughing.

Seeing mum laugh so brightly made me confident she’d go home tomorrow.

I opened one of the food tiers.
“What’s that?” mum asked.
“Wow… crispy prawns,” I said.
“Do you want to eat this?”
“Let me try,” she said eagerly.

One, two pieces, then rice, she ate more and more. For three days, her appetite had been poor. Hospital food is bland. 

“Want more?” I asked.
She nodded. Again and again. She even ate the crispy prawns on their own. Strange, she hadn’t wanted anything hard to chew before.

“What should we bring for grandma next?” our relative asked.
“Grandma wants satay,” mum said.
What?” 😀

Instead of advising her, they encouraged her. “Alright, we’ll get Damri satay.”

The visiting hour was warm and lively. Mum ate a lot, unusual for someone with heart disease and pneumonia. Everything seemed fine.

Another doctor came in. Mum shot her question immediately:
“Doctor, can I eat satay?” she asked loudly.

We laughed. The doctor looked confused.
“You can, if it’s just one. If you buy a lot, you have to share with us,” he joked.

We laughed again.
“One? What if it’s five?” mum insisted.
Honestly, she didn’t look like a sick person at all.

“Alright… two then,” the doctor said, as if bargaining at a market.

Mum was satisfied with the doctor’s humour.

“Your pillows are nice, where do you get those?” the doctor said while examining her.

Our relative handed mum an envelope.
“This is for satay or durian when you’re better.”
Mum looked so happy and positively will be back home soon.

“Mih, keep the envelope,” mum said to me.
“Yes, boss!”

Besides satay, mum had been craving kere raweuy since yesterday. Believe it or not, I searched the market that morning for it. Kere is seasoned dried meat, fatty, hand‑shredded, not minced. My mum’s tastebuds were extraordinary even at 81.

She never avoided any food, salted fish, tripe, offal, fatty satay, durian, she ate everything.

Evening came, shift changed.

A Different Kind of Night

That night, we gathered as usual. Reviewing the day and planning tomorrow. Every day brought surprises, so we always had plans A, B, C, even D.

Alhamdulillah, I’m so grateful for my solid, close‑knit family. Mum must be proud “over there”. Mum and dad lived together, but my fourth sibling lived across the street, my third sibling lived next door, connected by a door between the living room and garage.

The youngest lived a bit further, but whenever needed, he’d come immediately. And me, the eldest, far away in another country. But I make sure to come home every year. Sometimes twice a year. My principle: as long as my parents are alive, I must come home. These moments are precious, for me and for them. I want to give my parents good memories.

During our gathering, the phone rang.

“Wa, someone’s missing opung/grand dad,” my niece said.
“Who?” I asked.
“Nenek/grandma of course.”
How sweet. They had just seen each other yesterday. That’s how they are, that’s how we are. Our love language is like that.

“Tell her grandpa’s still at the mosque. He’ll be home soon,” I said.

Mum knew dad’s schedule by heart. Not long after, dad came home, like a teenager in love, missing his partner. Meanwhile, the children and grandchildren acted like their best friends.

“Pa, pa, quick! Someone’s missing you!” we shouted excitedly, running to the terrace.

They greeted each other warmly.
“Dad looks handsome,” mum said.
“Uhuy!” The kids and grandkids cheered. Dad smiled shyly.

“I miss you,” she said through the phone screen to my dad.
We all teased them. But as I type this, I’m crying, really crying! I can still picture her face. A face full of longing. If only we had caught the signal.

“How then? Should dad go there now?” dad asked lovingly.
“No, you don’t have to. It’s late,” mum replied softly.
“Alright then, just stroke through the phone, ok?” we encouraged them.

Dad stroked the phone screen showing mum’s face. He playfully twisted her nose on the screen.
“Don’t stroke like that, dad,” we said.
He knew exactly how he usually stroked her in person. I think he was joking to hide his sadness. They were used to touching skin. Now he could only stroke a phone screen. My tears fell again.

“Kiss her, kiss her,” we urged.
“Muachh…”
I held my phone to dad’s lips while my niece held her phone to mum’s forehead.

So sweet.

They talked for quite a while.

“Alright, nek, time to take a rest now,” my niece said.
“Yes, tomorrow you might go home, it’s day three already,” dad encouraged. “We’ll meet tomorrow. See you tomorrow, bye, love you..”

Dad removed his kopiah, koko shirt, and sarong, then lay down. Meanwhile, we stayed chatting in the living room.

***

Hours later, the phone rang again.

“How is grandma?” I asked.
“The doctor wants to talk,” my niece said.
Doctor? Why? Before I could ask, the call ended. We grew anxious.

A WhatsApp message came, a family member needed to come tomorrow morning. There was an issue with mum’s kidney.

The atmosphere changed. Another call, this time from a nurse. We talked about many things. That night, we changed all our plans again. Everything was so dynamic, day by day, hour by hour. My niece went home, shift changed, we hired a neighbour who used to help care for mum.

That night, we had a deep talk, the deepest ever. Our first real heart‑to‑heart. So many insights.

To be continued…