Just a Bond

Can I See Him Sad?

A single tear flashed across my cheek the first time I opened Dad's room door. Sadness as if continues to affect, causing pain back in the chest. Even before arriving in this room, I had washed my face so that my condition that was not okay was not realized by the man. However, ... how do I control it, even he is present without me asking?

Still staring at the door, I tried to relax myself by taking a strong breath, then throwing it slowly. I erased the tear spots slowly, then pulled out the face to dispel the patches of clear liquid that seemed to continue to push the eyes to fall. I don't want to add to Dad's mind burden by revealing his true state.

Gontai, I'm stepping near where Dad fell asleep. I stared fixedly at the face of this first man of my dreams who looked calm. Even though on his no longer young face was imprinted a pale look. His body looks fragile. Very different from a few years ago. He was closed so comfortably, even though his breathing rang.

It must be that your heart is disturbed again.

I saw from the medicines that were on the nightstand next to where he was sleeping, clearly showing that. Dad has a history of heart disease due to shock about the departure of Mom five years ago. Almost a year Dad can not move like people in general. Since then, it's been harder for me to tell Dad. The doctor said he should not think hard.

Because from childhood Mas Reza was the only person I trusted most to tell stories, he finally became my vent.

God, why can't I be unaware of my father's condition?

My body was shed beside the place where Dad fell asleep on his back - by the side of the bed. Isakan was no longer able to be dammed as slowly memory after memory of the struggle of my hero for the sake of making me, all of us - his children, happy. The tears were pouring down with no warning. I'll put my hands together to touch Dad's right hand. Kuciumi hands that began to wrinkle it many times, while letting the shadow of the past say hello again.

"Sir Najwa is stingy, huh." One very striking sentence was said from the lips of my first brother. Rifka thumped my lips, but I tried bodo terribly.

"Evil."

I just glanced at him without saying anything, then switched back to reading my reading book.

Starting from me not allowing him to borrow Mas Gibran's book that I was reading, he sulked to get those words out. Although I was seventeen years old, but .. yes, ordinary, anyway, I think if there was a little quarrel between us. After all, the ends will make up again.

Wonderful, why I still like to serve Rifka.

I stared pushyly and exasperatedly at the fourteen-year-old boy. He really likes nosy. Different from Weny, my second sister. Understand, he's still sitting on the SD bench. Uh, they're both nosy, anyway. However, Rifka is more nosy than Weny.

"Sir Najwa' will also have just borrowed from Mas Gibran, Dek. Do you want to borrow time?"

"Sister, said Father, the older one succumbed equally to the younger one."

Oh my God, my sister is a real drama, yeah. Wonder. Why would I have a sister like her?

"Yes, know. Najwa's sister said replace it. Not ngizinin at all. It's also not ten minutes in Brother's hands."

"Come on, Brother."

I looked at my sister. "Rifka, Big Brother's time hasn't finished ba--"

"What's this?" Suddenly Mas Gibran's voice interrupts. Making our attention diverted, then immediately turned to our first brother. Quickly, Rifka approached Mas Gibran who was already standing between us.

"Rifka wants to borrow Mas Gibran's book, okay, yeah?"

I sighed softly looking at Rifka's behavior. Slowly, knead the base of the nose. My brother is that one. So annoying. Mas Gibran also often spoiled him. Be him as he is now.

Without waiting for Mas Gibran's reply, I immediately thrust the book towards Rifka.

I was too lazy to prolong the problem. Especially if Rifka is angry, make Mom nag.

Not finished with Rifka's behavior, Weny act. When I was busy being alone beside the house, he was even rioting with his friends. He often comes to his friends to play together.

Sucks. If I get upset, I'll be alone. It's so bad to see people.

Ignoring Weny and her friends, I began to tell stories in my little book Dad gave me on my thirteenth birthday. Dad said, because I don't like to interact verbally, so Dad bought me the book so I'm free to express anything there.

So the story goes, I used to have two HPs. One, specifically Dad and his business partner. Another one was made between me, Weny and Rifka. Mas Reza and Mas Gibran both hold HP each. However, because they were already in college and busy taking care of their education through electronic objects, Dad asked the three of us not to borrow their second phone. Instead, he bought HP.

I really want to have my own HP.

There are so many desires in the heart. However, aware of the state of our family, I chose to silence and write it in the book to become some dream list. I began to aspire to be independent and have a permanent job so that what I want can be achieved without burdening Father and Mother. There were still Rifka and Weny who were also thought of by them.

Father's work is the same as the locals in general, namely farming. Working under the scorching sun; relying on all the energy to work on the rice fields, before the existence of a sophisticated tool called a tractor, to be able to support us and realize our desires in turn.

Mother said, Father had worked as a furniture maker in the Sumenep area. But I only lasted a year there. Dad returned to Bangkalan and continued his farming business with Mom.

I looked at the calm face of Dad who was still asleep, like not disturbed at all will my crying become more and more so. Making a shadow of the past about him continue to cross the brain. In silence and tears that still spread I let the memory come back. Repeating events after events in the past.

Maybe it was his destiny, after five years of not dealing with the furniture world, he finally plunged again into the world of work. Not as workers, but buyers and sell them again in the area where we live, even out of town. Because many of the people around us are interested in furniture items from where Dad's boss is, which is very typical with Sumenep carvings.

Father said, it was the beginning he met his family Mas Farhan. At that time, my father was traveling to Surabaya. Until there, Father accidentally met his parents Mas Farhan who was confused looking for a typical Madurese divan.

Remembering the boss at his place to work first, he then advised Bu Rasti and Pak Faridzi to look around the furniture collection there. They are very happy because they can find items that match their expectations.

The three of them have started a furniture business ever since. The place of Mr. Ahmad-boss Father who was in Sumenep-as the production, Father and his parents Mas Farhan as the buyer who then marketed. Father in Bangkalan, Mrs Rasti and Mr Faridzi in Surabaya. Even not infrequently there are bookers who cross districts and provinces.

And, yes .. alhamdulillah. Their efforts are going well. Of course thanks to the hard work of the three parties, accompanied by the destiny of the Almighty. One of the proofs is Dad. Since working with his parents Mas Farhan and Pak Ahmad, he often went back and forth Sumenep-Bangkalan, Bangkalan-Surabaya, even out of town to earn sustenance to support us. Really, Dad's sacrifice was so great.

"Dad, you're not tired of going back and forth?" I asked once I had a chance to chat with him.

He smiled gently at me. His gaze is always calm. The man looked at me affectionately. "The smile that rises on the lips of your children when what they want is realized, pays for all the tired Dad, son."

I kept quiet about Dad's words. At that time I realized the look of fatigue on Dad's face, but he could still show a smile and not show his fatigue in front of us.

"As long as I can work, I'll work hard for you. Especially you."

"Why is that, Dad?"

"You are different from your other brothers. When they demand a lot of money from Dad, you choose to be quiet. You have many desires too."

"Dad will do anything for Daddy's kids."

My crying became increasingly uncontrollable as my memory stopped at Dad's statement. I looked at his face which still looked calm in his rest.

God, can I see him sad? What was his condition when he knew the state of his child's household was not healthy from the beginning?

...***...

Thank God, finally updated too. Sorry, yes. Kinda late. Two days ago there were some obstacles that made me unable to update. But calm. I've got some drafts to replace the one yesterday. Don't get tired of waiting for this story, yeah.

Don't forget the likes, votes and comments. I am happy, and thank you to those who have supported me by giving likes, votes and comments. 💙💙

Sweet greetings from the sweet author. Hehe.

Sumenep, Madura, East Java

Friday, 25 June 2021