Little Stories 70 : Last Day

I've known her for more than 23 years. She was there while we were growing up, and I considered her as one of my family member. I knew this day would come eventually and I am not in the right position to complain or give an opinion, after all, Bibik is my dad's full responsibility. But I am sad for not being able to make her stay and let her spend her older years here. She is not that strong anymore and I'm worried that if goes back to Indonesia, she will work to support her living. And I am sad because she hasn't seen any one of us getting married yet. And I am sad for those time after my parents divorced, she hardly meet us.

But life is life. She has to go back to her family.

*

Last Friday when I got my day off, I went to my dad's house right after I found out about my dad's decision to terminate Bibik's service. I walked from ma's house to my dad's house. I greeted her and sat outside in the garden to have a chat. We talked about her days and plans and disappointments and little stories. I know I'll miss those quick chats we have when I went out jogging and stopped by at the house. I'll miss her food, and her presence. 

I spent days thinking about how I'm going to write this. How 23 years will be dedicated in a single post. How my writing should be to make people understand how important she is to me. Words can't justify feelings. These feelings I have, guilt, for not being able to spend more time after we left the house, and more guilt, for not being able to take care of her, for not being married yet, or give her happiness. She is like a mother to me.

She took care of me while I was growing up. My first milk tooth, my first bicycle ride, daily walks from school. I spent a lot of time, having her, than both of my parents when they were too busy with works. And it was devastating to let her go.

*

After more than 15 minutes I spent talking with her, I noticed that she called me with a different name. Our neighbour's daughter's name. I thought I heard it wrong. Then she spent more time talking about general stuffs, and kept calling me 'Mahani'. She started to get confused when I said things about my siblings, and at one point I said I am 'Azreen', not 'Mahani'. But she didn't heard me. I almost lost it. But I played along eventually, letting her believe that I am her. At 7pm, she said it's better if I go home before Maghrib, knowing Mahani's mother is quite strict. My heart was crushed inside. 

I said I want to go for a quick jog and kissed her hand saying that we'll meet again one day. 

My eyes gleamed with tears when I walked out from the house. I don't know which one is more painful. Not being recognized by her or knowing that we were saying goodbye.

I almost took a turn from the road before I heard she shouted my name loudly from afar; "Azreen!". At that point, I smiled painfully. I ran to her. She looked at me and said sorry for not being able to recognize me much earlier. Sorry for being confused. And just sorry. We both cried. I hugged her and said that it was okay. 

At least at the final moment of our goodbyes, she finally recognized me.