Eulogy for my Old Man

Actually, I’m not sure what to write about my old man. But a few days after the 100 days Dad’s ceremonial, I feel like I miss him so much. In fact, Mom coincidentally said two days ago that, in the daylight, she was crying like never before because she missed him.

And that’s the same feeling I have right now.

So it was true, you never really miss someone until you lose them. Dad and I didn’t have that romantic father-daughter relationship, you know. We argued… a lot. Mostly about little things, me with my smart-ass attitude and Dad’s childish behavior… 🙂

We expressed our love with jokes and laughing at each other (not with) ;p and then argued again, and ending it with laughing at each other. But nevertheless, he’s always there… or he was…

I remember the time when I still took the bus; whenever I came home late from work, Dad usually picked me up at the bus station. Even when it was raining at night and he knew he couldn’t see clearly because he lost one of his sights.

He would still nag and give me a lecture about how it’s not safe for a woman like me always to come to work late at night and blah blah… but he never asked me to quit the job. He knew I loved my job.

Yes, we didn’t talk about love literally like ‘I love you, dad.’ We were not that kind of family. But he knew if I had a problem… And I never forget those days when suddenly he asked me, “Opo Ndok?” (He spoke Javanese for these rare moments) when that night he picked me up, while he turned up the motorbike and headed home. He maybe saw my crumpled face even though it was night, and he only had one poor eyesight.

Lately, I felt like I heard “Opo Ndok” in my ears (or maybe because I wanted to hear it)… and that moment flashed back.

On the weekend, at home, there usually always lived up with the sound of Javanese songs or gamelan, or he’s trying to nembang. He liked to sit there on the bench and read the newspaper while humming this kind of music that I would never understand.

Now, no more Dad’s humming, no more Javanese gamelan music, no more his voice trying to ‘nembang.’ Mom doesn’t have the spirit to listen to it again after he’s gone. Even my neighbors missed his humming. 🙁

I remembered one day we had an argument; I forgot what we argued about, but he said, I remember clearly: “Berapa pun umur kamu, kamu tetap putri kecil bapak.”

And that’s what he did. When he got sick, without our knowing, he prepared everything that he knew I wasn’t capable of. Mom told me afterward.

And when he was still here, he prepared me so I am ready when he’s not there.

A funny thing, I thought when we are older we can be more ‘ikhlas’ when someone dear dies. But I think it’s not. Losing someone for good, whatever age you are, is the same sad shit, just a different age.

I thought I was done crying on the day he died. But actually, I never really cried. My head was too shocked. I didn’t give myself real time to mourn… or privately mourn for him. And Mom… I didn’t dare let myself be vulnerable when she needed me most. She has the hardest part…

So, I guess at this moment, I can have private time to cherish memories with my old man. And I can cry… privately. And say out loud that I miss him… every day.

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