Tidying Up Asa, Inviting Hidayah
45. Trapped of Rain in the Grave (2)
🌹A terrible event that befalls, could be providing wounds and trauma that will nest a lifetime on the soul. If it is not cured immediately, mental health will continue to be disrupted. Such is the fragile soul of a woman, if it is sick it is difficult to cure.🌹
String.
Seven days after Ghufron's death ....
Still can't believe he's really gone and will never return to this world. He left me and everyone who loved him.
Room chat with Ghufron has not been deleted, often I open and read again our conversation through the most popular messaging application. Sometimes there is still a swish in the chest, when knowing the contact number is online. Though I know that Ghufron's cell phone is now held by Nalini complete with all social media accounts. Nalini said she'll be taken off as soon as all the business is done.
It felt like Ghufron was just going where and for a while. Maybe because he didn't have time to say goodbye to me, so my feeling is that he's still there. We just can't meet.
My meeting with Ghufron, which was brief but deep in my heart, has carved many wonderful stories and memories. It's worth it, right, if I still can't make his departure? Although my lips say willingly, but it turns out this heart is difficult to weld.
This morning, Nalini sent a message that Ghufron's friends in the community wanted to see me. They want to talk about the continuation of the plan to open a cafe originally handled by Ghufron mas.
The cafe was our big plan. That plan that we discuss almost every day, from interior design, menus, concepts, everything we discuss together. It feels hard if I have to talk about the cafe now, while I am still trying to expand my heart on the passing of Ghufron.
However, for the sake of appreciating the sincerity of the friends of the community and realizing the great ideals of Ghufron, I was willing to meet them. We talked about the cafe until noon, then we visited Gus Hafidz at kyai Ali's boarding school. Arguably, Kyai Ali's only son was our spiritual teacher in communias. Gus Hafidz regularly filled out lectures while providing motivation for us.
“If you want to continue opening the cafe should be as Ghufron and Jenar have planned. The concept and the place are done, right? Stay forwarded.” so said gus Hafidz when we visited him.
“If the concept is ready, Gus. Only the place has not been settled, yesterday mas Ghufron has not been the same deal owner.” 90% of the plan about this cafe is mature, it has been discussed between mas Ghufron, me and his friends.
“The capital budget has not been settled either, Gus. We still need additional funds.” said mas Haikal, later he will replace all responsibilities mas Ghufron in the community, including about the cafe.
“Easy, later I help find investors. The origin of the concept is clear first, including the estimated profits obtained. Jenar will still invest, right?”
We spent the afternoon at the Al-Hidayah pesantren belonging to Kyai Ali. Discussing with Gus Hafidz, listening to the advice given by kyai Ali and Nyai. Also send do’a to mas Ghufron, hopefully explained and explained his grave.
The plan is from the pesantren, I want to go straight home. Just walk from the pesantren to the highway, then take a bus to Magelang. However, my plans changed when I met Mr. Hara. He came because he was called by Nalini, asking for help bringing him home.
Basic Nalini, could-can ask for help the same Pak Hara who just known, even though there are many friends mas Ghufron. If Nalini wants I can also take her home by borrowing a pesantren motorbike, or Nalini can go home with Aina. But Nalini prefers to ask for help to Mr. Hara. If Ghufron's still around, he's gonna get pissed.
When I was about to perform the Ashar prayer, Mr. Hara held back my steps. He gave a letter he said he had taken from Ghufron. I thought what the letter was, because the envelope was the name of the central public hospital where Ghufron was treated. After I opened it, it turned out that there was a handwriting of Mr. Ghufron behind the results of the laboratory examination. Looking at the results of laboratory tests on samples of blood of Ghufron, my heart as if sliced into pieces, re-remembered his passing so quickly.
Out of curiosity, I read the letter. Word by word strung together in a simple letter it made my eyes heat up and the tears came back. After that, I missed Ghufron even more. The plan to go home soon changed, after saying goodbye to Kyai Ali, Nyai's mother and Gus Hafidz, I actually asked Aina to take me to the tomb.
Kyai Ali warned me earlier, “palate is dark, Nduk. Straight home, it is not good for a girl to go to the tomb alone in this weather.”
But I say, “namung sekedap abah yai, insya Alloh mboten dangu.” (Just for a minute, abah yai. Not long enough.)
Aina had also offered to accompany her. But I insist only ask to be escorted to the front of the tomb, will immediately go home after sending do’a. Since I don't want to trouble Aina, it's a pity that she has to be showered just for waiting for me.
As I was about to enter the cemetery I saw a motorbike parked to the right of the entrance to the tomb. Feeling a little relieved, at least I won't be alone in the tomb. I never knew if it turned out that Mr. Hara was in the tomb, he was standing in front of the navel of Ghufron mas. He was solemnly staring at the mound of land that was still red with a sprinkling of flower petals filling its entire surface.
Once I greeted a glance, just promised do’a for Ghufron mas. I thought after that it would go straight home, so as not to be rained. However, it turns out that I have not yet finished’a, raindrops have fallen point by point to hit my head covered with hijab. There was no other choice but to take shelter as the rain suddenly intensified. Luckily there was a hunk that was not too far from my place. That afternoon Hara and I were caught in the rain in the middle of the tomb.
Actually I am not afraid to be in the middle of the tomb during heavy rain, at least there is Pak Hara who accompanies so I am not alone. However, I was also worried that just being alone with Mr. Hara would make my phobias relapse. Luckily, Mr. Hara was understanding enough not to get too close to me, although there was still some discomfort.
Feeling relieved because until the rain subsided and we came out of the tomb, nothing happened to me. I was panicking because my phone wasn't in my bag, and I had to book a taxi online. Maybe because of the panic, the feeling of fear reappeared. Plus my cold body, the atmosphere of rain and surup just as it happened.
I've tried hard to forget, but whenever there's a speck of scent or an atmosphere that's almost the same, the memory of that day is called again. It seems like my brain was always forced to replay events a few years ago and it must have freaked me out and scared me.
That afternoon while waiting for the online taxi I ordered using Mr. Hara's mobile phone came, the chunk of the terrible incident was uninvited. I was like being thrown into the past, when I was in a tent alone in a state of heavy rain and lightning struck, complete with a thunderous roar.
I was trying to neutralize the feeling when Mr. Hara offered me his jacket. I politely declined, but she insisted on wearing her jacket to me. At once I breathed the stinging scent and the black shadow seemed to be in front of me.
Mas Ghufron once taught, when I feel the body will be turbulent, then I have to take a deep breath while thinking. I have done as Ghufron taught me, and convinced myself that I am not in the tent alone and that with me is Hara, not the man.
While squeezing the fingers to dampen the turmoil that has been brewing, I muttered in my heart, ‘ini sir Hara, not him. Mr. Hara's a good man, won't hurt me. Mr. Hara is a good person, Mr. Hara is a good person, Mr. Hara is a good person.’
However, everything I did was unable to overcome the trauma that had already taken hold of itself. I felt like the black shadow was approaching, getting closer and closer. I crossed both hands to hug myself as my body started to shake completely with cold sweat coming out from the pores.
After that I couldn't control myself, my knees were limp, but my whole body was stiff. The view is blurred, because the head feels spinning, then darkens. My body was empty, and I don't remember anything after that.
Events like this are not new to me, have often been. Not many people know that I have had trauma in the past. Only some of my friends, even my family don't know. Father and mother who knew about the event would not have thought that the effect was so devastating for me.
In the past, in order to heal my mind after that horrible incident, my father and mother took me to psychiatry. At that time I had not felt fear and panic attacks like this. As time went on, it turned out that the traumatic event was still unfolding, my soul was not completely healed. Ghufron said, my mental illness still needs to be treated.
That is the reason why every month I visit kyai Ali's boarding school with Ghufron and his friends. I endeavored there, seeking peace of mind by listening to religious lectures. Although I have not been able to fully heal the soul, at least I try to fill the mind with spiritual water.
Ghufron said, I have to go to psychiatry again. He had promised to accompany me on medical treatment, but what is the power of just a plan made by humans if not diridhoi Alloh? The plan had not yet been realized, he was dead.
Maybe later, I will have to go for treatment on my own because there is no way I can survive this situation forever. I don't want my mental health to be compromised because of the terrible events that have happened.
.
.
.
Seriate....
Hi, dear friends. May always be bestowed health, fortune and useful age, aamiin. Sorry, deviated from previous estimates for the schedule up. It's also a little bit, please understand.
Whatan, anyway? Ask to be understood only. Yes, that is, yes, because if you ask to be loved it is common hehe.
For the next chapter, when?
sometime, yeah, hehe.😊😊
Peaceful greetings, peace be upon you,
Desi Desma/La lu na
