Like everything in this world, there’s always two sides of something. So is November. After the happy occasion, then we move to the other side.
It’s been four years, yet it still can’t be helped to remember every details without flowing tears. A dark rainy afternoon made the pain felt more hurt and real. As if the sky was crying a lot with her gone.
The one who set the standard how one should live. Do your best, dream and make it real, finish what you have started, give a lot, trust your own self and your God the most, don’t take what is not yours, and know how to feel enough with what you have and been given.
The one who had the honour to left exactly two weeks after Hajj, paid her zakat, fasting for five days, done ashar prayer, and recited syahadat.
The woman I call mother.
In this life, I have so many things I have been so grateful for. Being my mom’s daughter was, is, and will always be on the top of my list.
It’s greater than gratefulness. It’s an honour to be given birth, raised, and loved by her.
Sending my best prayer for the one I love the most.
Till we meet again, bu…