LOCKDOWN A Love And Covid - 19
A Letter from Jakarta
The more my body weakens, there is no light of life even though I wish I were alive. Eating on the bed, dad reciting a fairy tale before going to bed to me like a little boy, my once-busy nephew now they are quieter when they are with me. Therapies for our fetuses, ranging from classical music that I heard a few hours every day and the chanting of the Qur'an before I went to sleep, all efforts were fruitless. I still have a hard time talking, this thought is so upset. I was plagued by feelings of guilt and sadness that I could not explain to anyone. Even my heart can't explain it.
"father, in view of the symptoms, most likely Yasmine experienced major depression. We try to keep him alive, most people who experience major depression feel sad and can not talk. His psyche was too shocked to accept the situation." from under the thick blanket of fur my brother said, I can hear him even though he is speaking very slowly. I want to spend my time being closed, there may be a miracle coming to me, bringing me to happiness in the middle of Ramadan.
" son, I brought you mustard greens and fried chicken for you." Father's voice softened.
I still shut my mouth shut, as much as I could gather strength to talk to her, I did not want all buried in my claustrophobic chest. I saw a tray of fresh chicken and green vegetables, I was never hungry, but my fetus needed nutrients to stay inside.
Under the plate is a tumbled envelope. A letter, astonished me in a weak heart.
The light blue envelope that stole my attention, I weakly grabbed the light blue envelope, I should have screamed or cried this second. But everything is so hard to do. My eyes spell out one after another the name of the sender, a name I long for, a name that revives my spirit, a name whose soul is half my soul. Dad's eyes are red, I smile at you. Dad handed me the first envelope from Tiara he gave me a week ago as I lay in the hospital. Two envelopes in different colors one person wrote them, I could feel so softly Firhan wrote his name and my name on a blue envelope.
"it's time you read it all." Dad's voice was no longer encouraging, maybe you were too sad to see my condition. Though I always want to look happy in front of him, but unfortunately I am not good at lying.
Dad came out leaving me in solitude.
It should be tonight that the moonlight penetrates the clouds to shine upon the dim and pitch-black earth. I opened the curtains, let the night air in through the window I opened, and the warm white light of my room shone out. My face bounced on the cold mirror, thin body, collarbone that was more prominent than last week when I saw my grim face, black circumference also appeared under my narrowed eyes faintly. Pale lips are white, hair that is still always neatly arranged.
I didn't care about my appearance, I switched to opening the white envelope. With the weight of my heart at a glance, I can imagine his face that wrote all this time for me, Firhan is not a man who likes to write, but he is able to write a long story, there are three folio sheets that will accompany my sepiku night.
__________________________
To my beloved wife
Yasmine Adelia, may always be in the protection of Allah
I don't know where to start, I promised to tell you, maybe it's a good time. I want to tell you through pen writing.
That day I was so scared at the airport, I panicked and got angry. I'm afraid you've waited too long, and I can't dwell.
It should be when 6 March 2020 we have met, we have promised to meet at Yogyakarta airport. But brother, the accident happened to me, all the contents of my wallet, clothes, and also my cellphone were lost while I was living in the mosque during transit time in Jakarta. I really blame myself for being lost at the time. I can't reach you, and I can't meet you.
I finally reported to the police that I lost all my identification, but I didn't have any money. There was nothing I could count on, thank God I could still drink tap water in the mosque, and I was helped by the old guard.
He gave us half the money to eat together, and I lightened up a little bit of his work.
I spent my night crying, I couldn't help it. I know it's a test, and it's the toughest test of my life. I can't tell you and tell anyone I know. Every day I write your number, but the last three numbers are very difficult to memorize. I tried to borrow the phones of people who visited the mosque that I made as a bed, but every time I tried to call it was not your voice that came up. I was wrong in writing the numbers, I forgot your three lines.
That was my day in Jakarta. Number after number, the last three numbers can affect my life..
When I'm sure your number is correct, it's very rare for anyone to go to the mosque, it's very difficult to get someone to share their phone with me who doesn't have an identity, but some people lend it, I'm looking for someone outside the mosque, like a meatball or a siomay man I can ask for help just to hear your voice and ask you to pick me up. I got your number at the end of March, I saw your face and my face became the icon of your whatsaap profile photo, my heart longs for impatience when it will hear your clear, spoiled voice. But my wish didn't materialize, your phone was off and I stopped sending you messages. I just wish you could read it.
As soon as my day was over the end of March, I tried to contact you, but whatsaap gave the news calling alone, not turning into a ring.
I started to worry at that moment, I was afraid something might happen to you but I couldn't do anything about it. Finally in early April I left the mosque, looking for work began to suck in Jakarta, some of the alley has been closed should not be passed, there were no street vendors hanging out on the streets or in front of the school. Everything was quiet and I realized that the plague was making everyone lose their duty. Are you okay.? So inwardly I am every time.
Since there was no work I could do, I went to the airport, I had confidence that there were many of my lecturer friends who often transit in Jakarta, but the reality is the airport is quiet dear. Almost my feet can not step, if I am not a man I have been crying in the midst of busy a few people at the airport.
Until Tiara finally met me, she recognized me and she became friends with the beautiful writer I miss so much, I am a big fan of you my wife :)
At first I refused Tiara's invitation, but her uncle came and took me to his house not so far from the airport. There is great hope, especially uncle Tiara became a plane parking lot, I want to borrow the money, I want ramadan with you like last year, and uncle Tiara can buy me a plane ticket to Yogyakarta, he said, and you know, baby... The airport is no longer in Adi Sucipto, now the airport is in Kulon Progo, I am sure you will like it if we take pictures there as I thought at that time.
But qadarallah, I fell ill. I shivered, my breathing was heavy and worse I had difficulty breathing, the flu also attacked my weakened immunity. Uncle Tiara took me to the hospital, I'm in quarantine with some people here.
Dear..
Don't worry, covid-19 can be cured. No need to worry about my situation. I promise after this quarantine is over I will go home to your house, I will take you for a walk and eat along Malioboro street, in shayah Allah.
I'm sorry to keep you waiting, to worry you, just know I tried to tell you, but it hasn't worked out yet.
My dear..
Pray me..
I need a prayer from you..
I want to heal and get together again..
Give my regards to mom and dad..
Tell me about the accident that happened to us..
I love you always. Do not cry after this, your beauty will fade if you are sad.
:)
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As for every piece of writing he wrote so slowly, I knew it took me hours to write all this down for me, between my wet tears rolling out his ink, I hugged this paper tightly, he said, I hope soon after the farewell I have. I miss very much.
The wind moved slowly, giving the news that rain was coming, the stars did not decorate the night sky, the night of Ramadan was quiet, the fog was scattered carried by the wind filled the space outside without walls. I grabbed the blue envelope, my second letter from Firhan that I don't know when he arrived, but I'm sure you've read it. Folio paper folds have changed from the original arrangement. I started reading it again.
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To my beloved wife..
My first and last love..
Assalamualaikum..
I read the situation, it is time I write and remember our story on this white sheet that I will fill with the ink of our journey.
You know brother? I asked the nurse to find a beautiful envelope in your favorite light blue color, and I asked her to lend me the pen and paper you were holding.
I'm so sorry if it makes you sad, makes you hurt, makes you miserable.
You remember..? The beginning of our very brief encounter? You should know, that it was a time that really made me unable to sleep. I doubt, one night I was at a loss to think of the right word to ask you. I'm sorry I was forced in the car. I wish you always loved me. The happiest day of my life, when I shook your father's hand, asked you to be my wife on earth and in His heaven. The happiest moment for me was when I could hold on tight to your fingers, while tucking solemnly at your forehead, the amazing thing that happened when Maghrib arrived after our wedding day was that I kissed you. Kissing a beautiful and sweet woman, you are the most precious person in my life. There is no perfection that I go through except after I have built a household with you, having a day full of surprises from you.
I always remember, I never forgot my sister.
I always remember your sweet face flushed with embarrassment looking at me, the honeymoon agenda that you put together so perfectly, eliminating fatigue when I was done. I am a very lucky man to have you.
Still always ringing in my eyes, your laughter, your jokes, your fancy, your naughty smile, your nighttime embrace, I can only hope, I can only ask, there is no request but to meet you..
I'm sorry to ignore you, I just wanted to calm down, think about how you and my family can make peace. But I realize, baby. Mistakes are not on you. You are never guilty, and even if you are guilty it is purely because of me, I am responsible for your upbringing, and I try to learn to be patient about the trials that come upon us. I'm sorry I didn't hold back your steps when you left. I want you to be here right now, taking care of me and taking care of me, but I realize what pain I am in. My pain cannot be besuk, no one has met his family.
Ye know? I was a crybaby when I took you off at the airport. There are many things I want to talk to you about, I should have held you back, I should have pulled you in my arms even tighter.
I never thought that staring at you at your Kualan airport was the last moment I had with you, but I didn't think so. I was so happy when I looked at my phone that it said call and I found a picture of you smiling. I always wish you'd smile without me, baby. That is the prayer that every five times a day (minimum) I say, I always ask God that I and you be given strength.
You are my guardian, you are my soul's tranquilizer, you are the angel God sent to be my life's encouragement.
Can I sing..? I remember the song of the late ustadz Jefry al bukhori, it was on a nice cover by Syakir Daulay and Adiba Uje you have to look for it later after reading a letter from me. The lyrics are so good, I was moved and imagined I could sing in front of you.
Every human being has a sense of love
Which must be guarded, its sanctity.
But there are times, helpless people
When a lie comes to the throne
I want him who is faithful
Who can maintain their purity
When I was not far from him
Amanah also became his guard
Your heart is my refuge
From the silence of my night.
My God approved that, though,
made you my partner.
You are my heavenly angel.
No one understands my flaws
Except you, oh my angel
Forgive me for my stupidity
Who cannot guide you
The nurse told me that there was a message from a relative who took me to this hospital, I thought it was Tiara and I was right. Tiara sent the letter to the nurse, in the first paragraph of her letter she said the reason you were never active was because of the signal, you went to Pagilaran as it turned out, she said, I was also shocked to hear that Abdu and Azalea had an accident that caused them to leave. But in the third paragraph I feel alive again after my condition has worsened, there is an energy that brings a new spirit for me to survive, Tiara said that she has delivered my first letter, Tiara said,and she said that my wife was pregnant.
What's our baby doing?
Did you take her to the obstetrician? Did dad accompany you to the gynecologist? How's my heart beating? Is he healthy? Is he a boy or a girl? I was so happy to get the news, I had the opportunity to feel how happy I was to be a father of the fetus that you are carrying.
Honey, this is the last page of the letter I wrote for you, if you find the letter from this sheet, then don't be sad..
My brief service as a man has ended, God has called me to Him, the life laid down in my soul has been taken by Him. It is easy not to weigh my hisab, forgive me who has not been able to accompany your difficult times and make you moody all the time, really not what I want.. I want to be with you always..
Baby do you remember our promise?
We promise to love each other, we ask God to meet in the world and also in His heaven, but I am okay, I am very happy if you will marry again after this. I want you to stay happy, don't be too lamenting my departure.
My dear, take care of our child, from a fetus to an adult.. Give her something positive, teach her to be as personal as you are if she is female, like her sweet mother, spoiled and understands anyone around her, and able to face the pressures of an older world. If he was born in the world, I'm afraid you're married again, I'm glad you have a better husband than me, our son needs a father to hold his hand on his wedding day. And I know how hard it is to educate a child without a father. I don't want you to feel that trouble.
My duty is to be stopped by God, during your pregnancy, I leave you to your father first, you will always be the best wife for the rest of my life, even when I breathe my last breath later, he said, please pray for me.
I always hoped to throw away this last piece, just the beginning you read. But you read it, and it is not from me that you receive this letter. Never mind do I want you to be grieving, I just want you to know that my love for you, one until the end of my life, I have promised to reunite with you in His heaven. Promise me to be a personal shalihah, I love you dear.
You know that safe password hidden behind our room frame? If this pandemic ends go to the field, ask father to accompany your journey, I give everything to you. There are stored more than 4M and pure gold. I save it for you, for our son later.
I've given it to my mom, so all that money is purely for you, want you to do I don't mind it.
Save well, infuse as much as you can, I have done all my duties before leaving this world.
Thank you so much my wife, my future mother for my baby, later when she grows up, tell me good things about me, apologize to her, can not accompany her to play, carry her, or take her to school. Tell him that his father is very happy to have a good figure like an angel.
Take care of my wife's health, baby.
I want to multiply my dhikr, until my last breath, I always hope to die in a solemn state of khatimah.
Aaamiin, O God.
So far :)
Wassalamualaikum
Quiet ICU Room, April 16, 2020
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And on the next page, a news from the hospital that made me barely breathe.
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FATMAWATI RSUP
CENTRAL JAKARTA
IN THIS LETTER, WE EXPLAIN THAT :
NAME: FIRHAN AVECENNA
AT :FRIDAY 17 APRIL 2020
HOURS :04:06 WIB
HE DIED FROM THE COVID-19 PANDEMIC. AND IT HAS BEEN BURIED ON THE PROPERTY OF THE FATMAWATI HOSPITAL IN TANGERANG.
ACCORDING TO THE PROCEDURE ESTABLISHED.
THIS LETTER IS DELIVERED, AS A NOTICE TO THE FAMILY CONCERNED.
BE SORRY FOR
OFFICER COVID-19 FATMAWATI HOSPITAL
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