Disclaimer: This will be an emotional ramble. Kindly pardon my messy writing.
Death, surprisingly, is one of the topics that often come up in my everyday conversation with my husband.
Early on in our marriage, we talked about "What if I die before you? What if I die young? What will you do?" and ended up shedding silent tears together while hugging in bed. Every now and then, similar question is raised up in our conversation. The last question is expected to be met with some kind of practical plan, like move out of the city or something. We also discuss our wish related to our -inevitable- death someday.
When I was 36+ weeks pregnant, I prepared not only hospital bag but a note containing details of my bank accounts + a list of others' money in my responsibility (gara-gara keseringan jadi bendahara hehe) and passwords to my laptop and digital accounts. I told my husband to take care of my financial thingies and digital account if I die during labor. I also told him that if he ever face the question of "Save the mother or the child?" he must save our child. And he posted in his Path account, I forget the exact words but it was something like this, "Bismillah istri mau melahirkan. Habis ini kemungkinannya jadi bapak atau jadi duda, atau dua-duanya". Apparently I needed an emergency sectio caesaria procedure, and my last word before I was brought to the operating theater (he was not allowed to go in) was "Kalo aku mati, ridhoi aku ya". That sentence felt so relevant because I am allergic to many kinds of drugs, have records of anaphylaxis due to medicinal allergy, and have been warned to avoid anaesthesia.
Tonight I read about Paul Kalanithi and Lucy Kalanithi and their book. I haven't read his essay in NY Times or Stanford Medicine. What I've read so far breaks my heart me already, I can't bear to read his essays yet. I also can't bear to read Lucy's essay yet after reading about how she felt coming home to their house after her husband passed away.
Maybe if we don't avoid talking about death we'd be more prepared when it approaches those dear to us, but I guess we'll still never be truly ready to face the death of our significant others.
So I want to recite this prayer again, a prayer I recite every so often when I think about my family or savoring precious moments with them,
On the other hand, few days ago I read this question in Mbak Hani's blog:
What I don't have the answer to is this:
And so that is why dzikrulmaut is always good.
Death, surprisingly, is one of the topics that often come up in my everyday conversation with my husband.
Early on in our marriage, we talked about "What if I die before you? What if I die young? What will you do?" and ended up shedding silent tears together while hugging in bed. Every now and then, similar question is raised up in our conversation. The last question is expected to be met with some kind of practical plan, like move out of the city or something. We also discuss our wish related to our -inevitable- death someday.
When I was 36+ weeks pregnant, I prepared not only hospital bag but a note containing details of my bank accounts + a list of others' money in my responsibility (gara-gara keseringan jadi bendahara hehe) and passwords to my laptop and digital accounts. I told my husband to take care of my financial thingies and digital account if I die during labor. I also told him that if he ever face the question of "Save the mother or the child?" he must save our child. And he posted in his Path account, I forget the exact words but it was something like this, "Bismillah istri mau melahirkan. Habis ini kemungkinannya jadi bapak atau jadi duda, atau dua-duanya". Apparently I needed an emergency sectio caesaria procedure, and my last word before I was brought to the operating theater (he was not allowed to go in) was "Kalo aku mati, ridhoi aku ya". That sentence felt so relevant because I am allergic to many kinds of drugs, have records of anaphylaxis due to medicinal allergy, and have been warned to avoid anaesthesia.
Tonight I read about Paul Kalanithi and Lucy Kalanithi and their book. I haven't read his essay in NY Times or Stanford Medicine. What I've read so far breaks my heart me already, I can't bear to read his essays yet. I also can't bear to read Lucy's essay yet after reading about how she felt coming home to their house after her husband passed away.
Maybe if we don't avoid talking about death we'd be more prepared when it approaches those dear to us, but I guess we'll still never be truly ready to face the death of our significant others.
So I want to recite this prayer again, a prayer I recite every so often when I think about my family or savoring precious moments with them,
"Ya Allah, panjangkanlah kebersamaan kami di dunia dan pertemukanlah kami kembali di surga."
***
On the other hand, few days ago I read this question in Mbak Hani's blog:
When it's time for you to leave the world, what do you want to be remembered for?My answer to that sprang immediately to the top of my mind. I figured it out years ago and the answer is still the same today. I feel contented knowing that I know the answer already.
What I don't have the answer to is this:
Sudah punya bekal apa kamu untuk dibawa saat dipanggil Allah?I shuddered realizing that I don't have the answer already.
And so that is why dzikrulmaut is always good.
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