My Sacrifice is worthless

Your departure (Grandmother Yang Dzolim?)

"This you, the distance between your house and your residence is close. Whenever you can go home to see grandma, right?" my answer.

"Yes Nek, who knows tomorrow the day after Fitri can not go home, must be the same miss Fitri," he answered still laughing.

"Easy-after. Don't talk about the no-no. That's your invitation come, be careful on the road huh Fit?" my message.

"Yes my dear Grandma. Dad, Mom, Fitri saying yes? Assalamualaikum," said Fitri while waving towards us.

"Waalaikumsalam," we answered simultaneously.

My heart felt a bad feeling about Fitri's words just now but I didn't want to be so bad. Maybe it's just the guyonan and my feelings are excessive. I hope that.

Fitri called her father asking for permission to go see the artist's concert that would be present in the city where Ita lives.

"Dad, Fitri permission to the city of Kak Ita huh? There's a concert by a dangdut artist there. That's a well, up-and-coming artist" explained Fitri.

"Who are you going there Fit? And using what vehicle? Don't yes, your father and grandmother are worried" his father said.

"Fitri rame-rame kok well same friends and employers Fitri as well. Pack the employer's car," explained Fitri.

"But Fit, there it was very crowded. After all your brother is not necessarily allowed by Tok Bahmu to go out for the night," his father is still trying to persuade Fitri.

"Later Fitri picked up Dad's sister. Can ya? Last time it was yeah,"

"Well then, but promise you must be careful on the road and not separate from the entourage" his father said.

"Okay boss, Assalamualaikum,"

"Waalaikumsalam," his father replied.

There is a sense of worry

it enveloped my heart upon hearing Fitri's words just now. Plus the handpone used by Fitri could not be contacted until the night before. His worried father called Ita.

"Assynolajet. Ita, did Fitri contact you?" ask father.

"Vaalaikumsalam. Nothing, Dad. From yesterday Fitri did not contact Ita. What's up, Dad?" ask Ita.

"Look, this afternoon Fitri phone asked permission to watch a concert in your city. Artist dangdut said," replied his father.

"Loh, Ita just doesn't know Well, if any artist wants to come. Now, Ita is at home not anywhere," explained Ita.

"Yes already. If there's any news from Fitri, tell me, Ta?"

"Yes Well, Assalamualaikum,"

"Guilipinam,"

My heart is not thinking about Fitri. I don't know why there is a bad feeling that has not disappeared since then. At exactly 23:41 Wib, there was a call coming in that we didn't know in my son's handpone.

"Good night, sir. Is this true with Fitri's parents?" ask someone on the phone.

"Yes Sir. I'm Fitri's father. You who?"

"Yes Allah. How is my son, sir? Is he okay?" ask my son to worry.

"Yes sir, the victim is still being treated by the doctor at the hospital. We hope you come here soon. Thank you,"

"Good Sir. I'm leaving soon. Thank you,"

I who heard the news was very surprised. Tina and I were crying. Fear of unwanted things happening. I, my son, Joseph and my nephew immediately prepared to leave. Don't forget my son called Ita to increase his whereabouts. It turned out that Neneng, my cousin's wife, received a call and told Ita that she had left for the hospital on a bicycle.

When we got there we were waiting for the police.

"How is it sir, the state of my grandson Fitri?" I'm impatient.

"Let's come with you and Mom" the police replied without explaining anything.

It turns out that Ita had fainted in the hospital ward accompanied by her friend Lia. I saw sadness in the eyes of Fitri's employer and my cousin's sister, when I saw that I could only shake my head slowly. O Allah, may nothing happen to my grandson, my prayers are in my heart.

Entering a room, the first thing I caught was a body lying stiffly covered in white cloth with blood splattered under the hospital ward. I can't afford to get close. My cousin's sister asked me to approach the ward, slowly opening the white cloth covering the body. Like being stabbed by thousands of thorns, when I saw my favorite grandson was dead. I immediately burst into Fitri's arms, crying out for her name. I wish he would hear and wake up to see me. However, that is really unlikely because Fitri died at the scene 3 hours ago. Oh my God, what is this? What tests did you put us on? Is this a rebuke for my attitude all along? O Allah, forgive me.

Ita went into the room with my sister. Ita had fainted several times before she knew her beloved sister was gone.

"Yes Allah Fitri. Get up Deck, get up. This is Dek's brother.. Let's go home!! Brother promised never to leave you again if you open your eyes" roared Ita sayu.

My son couldn't help but cry at the corpse of his son. He went on a rampage and looked for who was the cause of all this. It turns out that a teenage boy who was with Fitri was named Satria. Motorized vehicles used by Satria are not suitable for use because they do not have headlights and hand brakes blong. Lucky his life is still safe, he will be processed legally for taking the life of someone for his carelessness in driving.

Finished all the business in the hospital, we brought Fitri's body home in an ambulance.

We were still crying staring at that lifeless body. Ita fainted somehow. Arriving at home we were greeted by relatives who had been waiting for the arrival of the body. Nur, Tina and Aji cried looking at our comrades. And so are the other brothers. Fitri's body was not much injured, but a wound on the nape of Fitri that caused severe bleeding so that his life could not be helped.

Next day. Fitri's body was bathed, Ita as a sister helped bathe her sister for the last time. We all try to toughen up. Not wanting to incriminate the late. We tried sincerely. However, still tears flowed swiftly. The body was finished in the caravan and sholatkan. Time to take it to the cemetery. Our families and mourners accompanied the coffins. Drive to the final resting place of Fitri.

Fitri was buried next to his mother's grave. Prayers accompany the funeral. Ita fainted again when Fitri's body was lowered into a burrow. Cloudy as if to represent our feelings accompanied by a raindrop. Goodbye my dear grandson, may husnul khotimah.

'Grandmother loves you, forgive Grandma's attitude all this time' my bathin.

Now I have to be kinder to Ita, right now she's all I can hope for.

💜💜💜