I spent a very intense relationship on my mom last days. Although I was pursuing my master abroad on 2012, once I finished in August, I became almost inseparable with my mom. We had so many things to do, Hajj, engagement, and the wedding, which were taking place within short interval from one to another. She was doing all those preparations with her sickness which was getting worse as the Hajj coming.
Several days before our departure, I spent days going back and forth to hospital to accompanied her with all test. She even wanted to canceled her departure just two days before and drew it back on the next days. She went Hajj with enduring the pain and sickness.
And me, I went Hajj enduring the stress, which a high level one, Hajj with a sick person. When others were enjoying their Hajj like a holiday, mine was more like a bussiness trip with tight schedule. I didn’t want to miss the prayers too much at Haram just because I had to take care of her. I spent years to be here. I wanted to do the Hajj well without neglecting her.
So, I woke up very early to make sure I had done everything before leaving for the mosque. Made her the breakfast, cutting some fruits, and prepared everything she needed then I left for tahajud, subuh, until dhuha. Between subuh and dhuha, I was going for thawaf. And I was doing all that alone. No companions at all. It was the ultimate me-time I have ever had.
Finished dhuha, I ran quickly outside the mosque to catch the bus back to the apartment. It was time for my mom’s second meal. Near the apartment, I bought something like kebuli rice and lamb curry for us to eat. I skipped zuhur and ashar at Haram. Instead, I chose maghrib to isya. Thus, during that time, I did all the work again so I could leave peacefully.
Really, went Hajj with your sick mother was nothing easy at all. Five days of the Hajj rituals were one of the hardest day I have ever been through. Not only fighting with other million thousands people, more, it was the fight with yourself to be ikhlas.
Two days after arriving back home, my mom was admitted to the hospital. She spent two weeks there. I spent 12 out of 13 days at the hospital. I stayed with her all night, fed her, helped her to go bathroom, cleaned up her pee and poo, even on her last days, when she was no longer able to clean her ass by herself, I was doing it for her. She refused at first, but I said it was really okay.
I once tweeted this :
Taking care your parents in their old age is not a responsibility. It is pretty much an honour.
I really meant it. It was a greatest honour to hear your mother said that she only wanted me to stay with her at night since I was the only one who woke up in an instant once I heard she called. I was the one who felt comfortable cleaning her poo and pee, even cleaning her ass for her.
I didn’t do those to hear that. I just hoped to reduce her pain. It broke my heart everytime I saw she endured all the pain. I didn’t remember when was crying became a daily activity other than those days.
The greatest of the greatest was, I was the one who witnessed the vey last seconds of her life. I was the one who first noticed her saturated oxygen dropped very low, then I was the one who ran into hear ear to whisper tahlil and syahadat. Until her last breath.
After she has gone, I continue taking care of my dad. Not only about the meals, but even for those small things like toping up his phone credit. I always put him first, even before Langit and le husband. I do really care about how he feels. I am often afraid that he feels lonely being without my mom. Eventough sometimes it feels tired, but I can’t deny I enjoy taking care of him. I can’t help feeling that he deserves as good as what my mom had from me. Thus, as long as possible, I really want to do well for him.
Is it pure me who is talking above?
To be honest, last days with my mom, I felt that I wasn’t my self during those days. The one who was me wasn’t that brave, kind, and patient. I even wondered where that kind of attitude came from. I felt like something made me those things. Something beyond my control.
Then, it’s only after three years, It becomes clear.
After three years, I finally understand, although I believe she didn’t want to trouble me in any possible ways, there are things beyond our control. And as a verse is saying that one will never get other than what he works for, so was my mom. She just received the payment of her work through me.
After three years, I find a lot of answers to my long lost questions as a child.
After three years, a one year daughter was sent to me to show me just a tiny part that my mom had been through in raising me well.
After three years, I finally understand why we could never repay our mother with anything we have, why mothers have three times bigger portion than a father.
After three years, I finally found a perfect reason to survive and do all those hard works my mom once did.
And why that ustad words hit me hard.
I was moved by all the hard works my parents were doing to me in the past.
Action equals to reaction.
For what I am now, the good ones of course, all credit goes to my mother, my mother, my mother, and my father.