Remembering Her Last Days

That morning, that one fateful Christmas Morning, I woke up from my short, interrupted sleep and had a glance at the Blood Pressure Indicator. Her pressure went down a little, but according to Nafi, the Maid on Duty, it was exceptionally normal for her to be in such a shape. Her breathing was rather hoarse and unrefined. Her pulse rate, albeit in her deep slumber, indicated an equivalent to a running man.

I am not a Doctor, I could never tell the difference. But something tells me... it ain't right.


She was calm nevertheless. Her eyes closed as always. Her skin never changed - blemished and reddish all over. When the nurses cleaned her up, her back soar never looked like recovering. Her sore feet worsen.

Deep down in my heart, partially, I had my reservations over the care of the doctors and nurses at the hospital. Things could have been much better handled.

She was infected with a bacteria or virus or some sort and became immune to any sort of antibiotics during her tenure at the hospital. And her back sore became as large as a crater courtesy of her confinement and bed-ridden days in the hospital wards.

But then again, perhaps, it was just about time...


I spent the night with her - the night before she left us all. I left her at 11.00 in the morning when my Dad and another Maid of ours came by to take over the shift.

I swear to God, I never knew it would come on that fateful day itself. One of my brothers, Rozman, was not around, as he was already in Langkawi with his family.

There was no any unusual signs when I left her.

Only when my Dad called me at about Maghrib time that I realized something was wrong.

I rushed to the hospital, only to find that her breathing was unusual. It was a moment of "Nazak"... something I often see on TV, on others but never this close, this immediate.

And when she left us with her last gasp of breath... I was right beside her hoping that her life could be prolonged just... a little longer.

It turned out that God loved her much more than I do.


Time stopped for a moment...

A Succint Epitaph

Semoga Allah mencucuri Rahmat ke atas Roh Bondaku, Norziah Binti Jusoh.

22 Days Later...

It all seemed new... it all seemed fresh.

Memories of her, lying on that old hospital bed kept on playing in my mind continuously each time I sat down on the praying mat, at home or at the office or anywhere for that matter.

Thinking about her ruffled and reddish skin during her last few days, would only make me feel sad and disparage. Not much could have been done to save her or at least to prolong her survival during her last few breaths. Not much could have been given in terms of our effort alone except to provide her with more warmth and comfort during her morbid and melancholic period at the Geriatric Ward of the University Hospital, Petaling Jaya.

I could recall my Papa's visit to the ward almost non-stop daily, and that was almost instantaneously followed suit by my siblings practically day in and day out. Ward 1344 was like a second home to all of us, especially Papa. Even the ever so celebratory Hari Raya Aidiladha was commemorated in a rather gloomy fashion together with the Nurses and Doctors on call.

And New Year, once again, became a poignant and heartwrenching moment for us all, as it passed us by like a gentle reminder that we have all had our funs during the year, hence, we should all learn to accept a tragedy or two towards the closing of the calendar. New Year was not just a turning over of a new leaf, but like the previous years, a solemn juncture with quiet sobriety.


Yesterday, was the mother of all other days.

Yesterday, my heart felt her loss in a tremendous wave of fashion. A tumultuous and painful feeling that I had to endeavour, leaving afloat a smiling face on the surface so as to hide the true emotions beneath.

Yesterday, her loss was a tragic commotion to me. Her facial expressions lingered on and on. And the memory of her last gasp brought tears down my cheeks, for I was immediately next to her when the doctor and nurses checked her pulse. And for the first time ever since she passed away, I cried in full. The one and only time that I could probably feel that her loss was a tremendous tragedy for me to bear in times of need...

A loss is a loss... All that is left are sour grapes and ashes...