Denied Senility

Being at home, everything feels nostalgic.

To access tumblr; twitter; and other social media through actual pc instead of mobile phone.

It regains willingness to write something.

And it made me realize, I do have quite privileged childhood memories.

Sesampainya di kota Surabaya, aku duduk di salah satu kedai dengan secangkir kopi hangat dan roti beraroma kopi.

Perjalanan menuju Stasiun Gubeng memakan waktu 30 menit, seingatku. Tapi tentu saja ternyata ingatanku tidak bisa diandalkan, 45 menit adalah waktu yang tepat berdasarkan Google Maps. Lagi-lagi si pemacu adrenalin, masih cukup lah ada sisa waktu 10 menit menuju jam keberangkatan kereta. Tapi kemudian aku dimarahi pengemudi taksi yang ku tumpangi.

Aku lupa menanyakan namanya, pun tidak sempat berbalas doa yang lebih panjang ketika ia selesai menurunkan koperku dari bagasi mobilnya. For all that matters, I pray him health and happiness. Semoga selalu dicukupkan rejekinya ya Pak.

Beliau tinggal bertiga dengan kedua anaknya. Istrinya sudah meninggal enam tahun yang lalu. Aku adalah penumpang pertamanya sejak jam 5 pagi ia mangkal di bandara.

'Sudah dari jam 5 mbak saya disini, eh baru dapet satu jam 8, mbaknya ayu ini.'

Keramahan orang non-ibukota selalu membuatku merasa hangat.

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Beliau bercerita pendapatannya adalah 15% komisi dari penumpang yang ia bawa. Biaya perjalananku dari Bandara Juanda ke Stasiun Gubeng adalah 200ribu, berarti beliau membawa pulang hanya 30ribu. Belum lagi begitu kembali ke bandara harus mengantri dengan sekitar 70 orang pengemudi lainnya. Dalam sehari belum tentu bisa mendapat 3-4 penumpang.

Lambat laun beliau menanyakan pendapatanku bekerja di Jakarta. Terkejut mendengar angkanya, aku menjelaskan bahwa biaya yang dikeluarkan di ibukota pun cukup besar. Tapi, that hits me on the spot. I've been spending money on the things I don't need. On the contrary, Bapak pengemudi mencari nafkah untuk menghidupi kedua anaknya dan dirinya sendiri. Beliau terkejut mendengar harga kereta dari Surabaya ke Madiun sudah diatas 100ribu. Jaman saya dulu masih 6ribu, ujarnya.

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well I consider seblak as food.

Last time we met was here, at my place. He kept on insisting to invite me to his house, said his children wanting to hang out with me, even picked me up and drove me home later on.

The family picked me up. They were so happy. We had meal altogether at the food court. He ordered bakso malang. Then we headed to their house at Bekasi.

He’s just like any other dad, wake up early on Sunday morning then get busy with household chores, the car, the plant. Complaining about his children who wouldnt get up early when it’s Sunday.

We had discussion about the cargo ship that stuck in Suez canal. He browsed youtube to explain it clearly to his children.

I clearly remember it all.

The next day, we had meal together with the other uncles and aunties and nephews and nieces. After that, they drove me home. Since my flatmate wasn’t home, I invited them to go inside. With smile on his eyes, as always, he said the apartment was nice. We parted with me promise to visit their house again when time allowed.

The other day, he’s still asking how am I doing. Invited me to his house, but sadly the covid situation was not getting any better so I refuse it regrettably. Who knows that’ll be the last time we talked to each other.

Oh, this is how losing someone feels.

I always wonder, and now here I am.

If, this is how me as the niece feels, I can’t imagine how his family feel right now.

I look around the flat, and the food court, made me remember him, his kindness. His family must be looking around house with the feeling I can’t never imagine. The house filled with memories with him.

I always pray his close family can gain some strength to through it all.

What feels different with current situation, is that everything feels so fast.

Sure everyone dies at the end. Sure this is all already written before, and as most of believer called fate.

Sure thing, I don't doubt any of that.

But......

Does it have to feel so rapid?

We haven't been able to recover from one death, yet must be faced to another. It hasn't even been a week, or a month, or even days. The sad news that comes repeatedly, without a break. It's so devastating.

*

Moreover, we aren't able to touch or pay our respect to the deceased. What kind of feeling is this? It's like our loved ones is just gone. Poof. No traces. No last touch, not even last glance.

Bap: Emang inget apa di buah batu?

Aku: .......

ANYWAY, everytime I finish a drawing I feel proud. But everytime I just started, I feel like a shit.

Just when I scrolled instagram, and found several consecutive posts of my friends with their family.

My heart hurts.

Thinking about how my parents feel, not able to spend 2 Eids without their daughters and families.

We were able to get together on Dad's graduation. All of us. And they were really happy, saying how the sound of our laughter and chat made the house lively. How their parents were right about it is delightful when families gather around, grandchildren play alongside.