Sunday, February 10, 2013

Sleepless in Chicago II

It has been awhile since I last posted an entry in this blog of mine.
 
I am not sure why; may be because I was too buzy, and I was. I know I have a couple of topics that I would like to put pen to paper. But then again, may be I was too lazy to sit down and write. Some of these topics require some thinking, and I prefer topics I can write straight from my heart.
 
A friend of mine had to travel from Chicago recently when his wife, who was in Malaysia to attend their niece's wedding, suddenly fell ill. He got that dreaded phone call that practically says, "I think you better come home" and without further ado, took the next flight out that very night.
 
Thirty hours later he landed at KLIA, and fortunately for him there was a happy ending. Right on cue, his wife was also at the same time discharged from ICU into the normal ward.
 
I am sure to his relief.
 
I can't imagine what he want through during the 30-hour flight. I am sure he would not be able to sleep and would be worrying about her.
 
I am happy for you Madi and Bayah. God bless the both of you and have a good return flight to Chicago this Tuesday. I spent a couple of days at their house during winter 2006 when I detoured from my meeting in Florida. I remember the delicious omellette that she cook for breakfast during those time and the hospitality of their family.
 
You can read about my adventure "Sleepless in Chicago" here.
 
Madi receving a visitor, an old friend and former classmates at the ward
in Sungai Buloh Hospital on Sunday 3 February 2013
 

Sunday, January 6, 2013

She would have been 74 today

Mak would have been 74 today.

But she did not make it to today; she was invited over to meet with the Creator six months earlier. Apparently according to my auntie Maksu, Mak passed away at the same age as (my) Nenek. I didn't know that; I thought Nenek passed away in her 80s. Then again may be not. She may looked 80s to my eyes, I guess it was only my perception, and hence I personally thought she would only go in her 80s.

I should have known better.

in 2012, she celebrated her birthday alone in Taiping - for some reason she decided that she wants to stay in Taiping in the early part of the year. May be in contemplation, I don't know. Most likely we would wish her over the phone, or text.

But I remember the birthday celebration a year earlier in 2011 for her 72nd birthday. These are pictures and stories that have never been told or published before, and I thought it is about time I share them with all here in the blog.

For the record.

Mak is about to realize that many of her cucus are waiting for
her arrival. She thought she was about to have dinner alone with Ani
and her family.
For the record, I did not arrange for this celebration. I believe it was my sister Ksham's arrangement and I just went along with it. Mak for sure did not know anything about it; it was a surprise for her. KSham and family, and my family and I were the first to arrive and Mak arrived later on at 8.38 pm with Ani.

It was reasonably dark in the restaurant with only ambient lighting, that she did not really notice us until  much later.

We were all there to celebrate her birthday with her.

Smiles were written all over her face when she found out.
Not sure what she was admiring - could be the lamps

Foods are served

Dinner comes with birthday cake
Mak and her cucu and children get a birthday song
sung by a singer of the restaurant band. I think she is amused
more than anything else.

With a little help from Danial


Mak and her three children on Jan 6, 2011 at Bora Ombak Ampang
She looks very healthy at this stage. Love her smile.
With everybody, except Akmal

Alfatihah untuk Mak.

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Verily, with the hardship, there is relief

2012 was both a happy and sad year for me.

It started well enough with Arif getting an offer as a pilot in Air Asia, and soon more good news during the year with Akmal getting good results for his SPM. We went to Japan in February for our family holiday, had our thanksgiving feast in June, and then everything fell apart with Mak's illness in July, and subsequent demise in Sept.
Arif looking regal in the cockpit. Now that he has
passed his line check, he can be seen smiling a lot
and is enjoying every minute of his flying hours. Hence
this picture taken in the cockpit.
That part was the horribilis months for me for the simple fact that Mak fell ill through out Ramadhan and passed away on the last day of Syawal (16 Sept 2012). It left a gaping hole in my heart, and mind - and my life, that it took me several more months to come to my senses.

In fact, two of the biggest challenges in my life (burden, if I may use that word) came hot in heels of one another. At that point in time, I simply cannot take it. They were simply too big a challenge and a burden for my shoulder to carry on on my own, that at one stage I simply gave up on one, and thought that she has many more children who can care for her in my absence, while I tried to plug the leaking hole in another.

I spent hours on my working and non-working days at the mosque, reciting the Quran and spending my in prayers and contemplation, seeking divine intervention.

Mak in the end passed away after two months of illness. She was buried near my home - I am glad that part of her wish has been fulfilled. She is now with me, I am now the custodian of her grave and I am responsible to her wellbeing in the afterlife (sort of).

Arif was also hitting a bad patch in his quest to be a 'line' pilot. His development as a pilot was hitting a brickwall. He was not improving - his study techniques were simply wrong (we found out later on). By right, by the 90th sector, one should be ready to be evaluated as a full-fledge co-pilot, but he was nowhere near being a co-pilot.

Fortunately, his training was extended and with the help of his two uncles - First Officer Afzal Asgar of Air Asia and First Officer Aizat Asgar of MAS, he was drilled for two straight nights the all important SOP a couple of days prior to his last training flights. Arif and I are undoubtedly indebted to them for their roles. Not to mention obviously the support from their parents, my uncle Paksu, a Korea Airlines captain, and auntie Maksu, formerly a MAS stewardess, and with the doa of my sister and her husband in Makkah, during Haj. We also enlisted the help of management consultant, my in-law Roslan Ghazali and his future-son-in-law, Isham a simulator pilot and instructor to boost his confidence and time management in aircraft.

And sudden and step improvement was seen by his captains - much better performance on all four sectors was one of the cherished comments of a captain in his report. By then, he was ready to being a pilot.

Alhamdulillah.
Arif on the night he passed his line check. he came home with
two bars on his shoulders (he left home at 3 am in the
morning with a single bar). Thanks to all who helped n doa
for Arif on his final line check 
I remember the al-Insyirah. "Verily, with the hardship, there is relief." I saw the posting of this surah on a friend's wall, and was captivated. It was like a sign for me. I keep on reciting this after each Yaasin and kept on believing. Thank Hasnor for the wonderful posting on your wall.

 1. Have We not opened your breast for you (O Muhammad ())?

2. And removed from you your burden,

3. Which weighed down your back?

4. And raised high your fame?

5. So verily, with the hardship, there is relief,

6. Verily, with the hardship, there is relief .

7. So when you have finished (from your occupation), then stand up for Allah's worship.


Masya Allah.

I had never gone through such situation before. Training of a pilot is very regimented and very systematic. You need to be on your toes all the time. You will be watched over by your captain, and your every move will be monitored, recorded and analysed. I am not sure I can withstand the pressure of trying to be one. It is unlike the training to be an engineer. I did not have my boss looking over my shoulder 8 hours a day.

Equally important would be one's confidence. If one has one, one can fly. If your confidence is low, you will have difficulty to fly. If you are nervous, you will make even more mistake and your mistakes will be pounced upon by your instructor.

Understandably. 

The young pilot-to-be at LAX enjoying
every plane take off there. He was every excited then
to hear the roar of the engine of plane as they whizzed by high
above us that day in the early 90s.
I think now I can understand why pilots are paid that much. They have to be of certain standard to fly an aircraft. As an engineer, I just need to pass my exams. If I don't know anything, I will just take my time to read and research and ask other. Time is something I can afford - I can take my own sweet time.

Time is a luxury for a pilot. Everything has to be in their finger tips, and solved in seconds.

Honestly, I feel I had aged a decade going through with Arif the last five months of his training. It was a tough moment for us, and I am glad that he had made it at last.

EPILOGUE

At last, Arif has fulfilled my dream of flying. I remember in 1975 in front of my classmates in std 6 at King Edward VII-1 school in Taiping, I went in front of my class and spoke about my ambition. It was a boys's school, so no problem for me to speak in front of class without being shy of the gals.
Arif in his maiden flight at Subang Aiport on July 9, 2012 at 5.30 am,
a week short of his 21st birthday. He then can't vote yet, but
he can fly this 42 MT aircraft.
"MY AMBITION. My ambition is to be a pilot. I...."

I had just started when the Indian teacher (sorry, forgot her name, but I can certainly remember her face and her sari) interjected, "What? You wore a spec. You can't be a pilot."

I was stunned by that information. I was not sure what else to say then. All my years in primary school, I had been eyeing and setting my goal of being a pilot. "That's where the money is," according to Mak, "they are paid handsomely."

So my dream shattered that day in 1975 and instead I became an engineer. Sure I was a jet-setting engineer during my days with a petroleum company, so I got to fly a lot, in front of the plane mind you.

But not in-front enough as I had envisioned in my childhood.

Mak had seen Arif got a job with Air Asia. She knew she had a pilot grandson in Arif - she had confided in me that she had been wishing for one, after Arif had gone to flying school. She had seen Arif going in and out of the house flying for Air Asia (with one bar), but Arif's second bar came in 3 months too late for her.

Akmal on TV9, the first pianist from the Hariri family
to appear on the telly on Nov 16, 2012.
Obviously, Mak also did not get to see her other grandson performing on TV9 on the piano.

But I am sure she was watching the two of them from high above.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Akmal Hariri's TV Debut

So Akmal has been invited to perform on live TV tomorrow. It is a break and it is a start for this up and coming Malaysian pianist.

But it is a long way to go, I know that. Hopefully this will give him platform for his future endeavor, and bode him well for the future.

So don't forget to watch live performance of Akmal. He would be on the (digital) piano, and it will be instrumental music all the way. We are trying to promote instrumental music to the Malaysian audience. If Richard Clayderman, Maksim and Yiruma can do it and captivated Malaysian hearts, why one one from their own kind, right?

Channel: TV9
Studio C, Sri Pentas
Program: Nasi Lemak Kopi O
Start time: 0800 hours
Date: 16 November 2012 (Friday)
Format: Four (4) slots featuring four songs, including a short interview

  • Skyfall - Adele
  • Terukir di Bintang - Yuna
  • Mimpi Sufi - An Akmal original composition
  • Ketulusan Hati (Anuar Zain)
So take the opportunity to watch him live on his TV debut. Hope it is the start of great things for him.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Life After Death - Berbicara dengan Mak


I kept on glancing into the darkness of my laman. There was only nothingness there, and emptiness filled the saturated night air.

Empty chairs graced the deck near the pond, a place she would normally sit on. Every night during the first weeks after her death, I 'waited' for her to appear at my house - out of the darkness of the night. I really wanted to see and talk to her. In fact, during the initial period immediately after her death, I really thought she would appear at my house. While I do not really believe that that would happen, deep in my heart I was hoping that she would.

It was a strange feeling to be honest. Even if she would appear as sekadar bayangan. But it was a futile wait. It made me nervous, and it gave a sense of surrealism.

As days passed and turned into weeks, there was still no sign of her, the reality began to hit me and soon I was hoping that she would appear in our dreams, that I kept on asking my siblings if anyone had any dream about Mak. I need to know how she is doing. I needed to be sure. I am hoping that she is doing well, as I am sure everyone of her children is going all out doing deeds for Mak in our individual own ways.

And she is a mother to 13 children, so she is infallible to my eyes.

I kept on praying for her to appear in my dream. But it was a long wait, and she didn't seem to be coming. I was getting restless.

"Mak, muncullah dalam mimpi Aman. Aman nak cakap dengan Mak," I would pray in my mind, before I hit the sack. I would even invoke God, asking Him for permission to see Mak in my dream. "Ya Allah, izinkan la Mak untuk muncul dalam mimpiku."

In the morning, I would try very hard to remember all my dreams, and look for signs. 90% of our dreams are lost within 5 mins of us waking up, or so I was told or had read somewhere. But I am sure I would remember it if it involves Mak.

So on the nights of the 8th and 9th Oct 2012, finally I dreamt of Mak. On consecutive nights. That was about 22 days after she passed away without this blogger saying goodbye to her. 

Actually the one on the 8th was not the first one. The first one was slightly earlier than that but it must have been immemorable. 

And the third dream (and second) turned out to be the most real and memorable that I don't think I will ever forget it. Ever.

And suddenly I saw her legs moving. Somehow I could not see her body at all, but I knew they were her legs and they had a slight movement in them. "Dah nak bawa masuk Mak dalam kubur dah," I thought to myself. I thought they were lowering her body to bury her in the grave.

I moved quickly across to see her.

But no, she was still alive. At the other end, I can see that they were digging her grave - I can clearly see that. She was dying, but for now she is still alive. So I can still talk to her, I thought.

So I went to her, and lay myself beside her. Again, as I wrapped my right arm around her (as opposed to using my left arm when I talked to her the last time at the ward that Wednesday afternoon before she was wheeled into the ICU). I was level with her and we were facing each other directly.

"Mak, Mak zikir banyak-banyak," I said. She looked at me. "Kita tak tau bila kita akan pergi," I continued, noting that it will take a few days before she would leave us (as in real life).

"Ya, Mak baca Al-Falaq dan Mak sebut nama Allah banyak-banyak," she replied. She knew that she is leaving and had prepared to bide her time by reciting the holy Qur'an.

At this juncture, I began to weep. My tears started to swell. I can't take it anymore as I could not take it just before she was wheeled out to the ICU that fateful day. I looked at her; she can clearly see me. Now it is the time for me to ask the question I had been wanting to ask the past 22 days.

I had not talked to her for over a month now, and suddenly she was with me again, albeit for a short time. Now is the time to ask her. It is now or never.

"Mak, bila lagi Aman boleh berjumpa dengan Mak?"

Tears rolled down like never before, as I was asking this question. I wanted to see her again. I wanted to talk to her like before, even after she had gone. This was the question I had wanted to ask her when she was sick, but did not, since I didn't want to stress her.

I wanted her to reply that we will meet again in the hereafter. I wanted her to tell me that we will all be family again in our afterlife. I wanted her to tell me that she will always be my mother. I did not want to lose her for sure, but at this stage I knew it was inevitable; something I did not acknowledge at the hospital when she was sick earlier.

You know how desperate I was for her answer. I was sobbing when I was asking her this question. She was right in my face. I was not sitting down; I was lying down with her face to face. I could very well see her. We were breathing the same pockets of air.

"Nak jumpa? Boleh, tapi ramai orang nak jumpa Mak. Kejap boleh la," she replied.

At this juncture in my dream, things were starting to get 'busy'. I then realized I had to catch a plane to ensure I would return and see before she was burried. I then remember another sibling who may just return in time to see Mak, but since I had to travel, if I did not rush, I may not be able to see her myself.

Things got hazy afterward. I don't remember much after asking her the two questions. At that point in the dream, I took her answer at face value.

In the aftermath of the dream, I was puzzled by Mak's answer to my second question. It was not an answer I was expecting. I was expecting a more straight forward answer - that we will meet again di akhirat. But I guess I can't dictate her answer in a dream - I can only try to interpret her answer to me.

And I have no clue.

Nonetheless, I was relieved to be honest that I was able to talk to Mak. That's what I had been waiting for. She was dying, but her answers were very rational. I always thought that in a dream if the other person talked, then it would not be them. If they did not talk, then it would be real.

In this case, Mak talked to me, and her answers were real and not irrational. She had been reciting Al-Falaq, and had been reciting (zikr) God's name, she said so herelf. Why Al-Falaq, and not other surahs, I have no idea why.

But I was happy with her answers.

The answer to my second question puzzles me even today. I am not sure what to take of that answer - that so many persons had wanted to see her, so she can only see for awhile only. An uncle to whom I related this dream told me that I was thinking so much of Mak (for her to appear in my dream), and that my time has not come yet (this is his interpretation to the second answer Mak gave).

Surely I had been thinking so much of Mak. That's for sure. I think of her all the time. Not a second passed without I realizing that Mak is no longer with me. That I can't just pick up the phone and talk to her.

Whether my time is now or sometimes in the future, I guess that would be in His realm. There is a 100 percent chance that it would be either!

EPILOGUE

Death is a fact of life. But we can never prepare ourselves enough to losing our loved ones, no matter how much we psyche ourselves to accept the inevitable that would happen sooner or later. We could only wish that it to be latter - much much later, obviously.

I remember many years ago I had a conversation about death with Mak. I don't recall the details anymore of that conversation, but the gist of it is still fresh in my mind.

She was talking about her own demise obviously, something I dreaded thinking even today.

So I told her - perhaps in jest - that may be, just may be, that I will go earlier than her and her reactions were fast and furios.

"No, no, no, tak mungkin," she responded, with strain in her voice and face. "Mak yang akan pergi dulu dari engkau. Aman tak mungkin pergi dulu sebelum Mak."

Seeing her reaction and how painful it was to her, I did not try to argue with her. It would be futile. I knew I had made a mistake breaching a taboo topic. And I can understand her reaction, to be honest. Which mother would want to have to bury her own children? It is as tragic as one gets in life, that's for sure. She had experienced once already when one of her twin sons passed away a fews back due to stroke.

And she did not want to have to go through that again.

I guess she had her wish fulfilled. She passed away before any of her other children, sans one. 

Sunday, November 4, 2012

History repeats itself - Welcome home K Sham

You know 28 years ago, just days before Bapak passed away, he spent a couple of days in KL visiting his eldest brother who was going for Haj that year (1984).

He was naturally excited attending the doa selamat hosted by his brother in Ampang Jaya. He knew he could not afford to go to Makkah himself - not in his lifetime, anyway. He knew that; that's for sure. So that thanksgiving feast was perhaps the closest he would ever get to going there for Haj himself. I am sure he had been to many thanksgiving feasts given by those heading for Haj, but this one was different.

This was for his own big brother, his own flesh and blood; while he was not going himself, he was right in the middle of of the celebratory mood, and excitement generated by the Haj.

In all his excitement, during the days he was in KL, he didn't take his blood pressure medications. That is what we were told later.

So when he had to walk the 2.2 km journey from Taiping train station that fateful evening of 12 Aug 1984, after arriving back from Kuala Lumpur, something had to give the next day. He had a hypertensive attack that dawn, and he passed away in the afternoon on the 13 Aug 2012.

When I returned home from Melbourne, I managed to see his bro (my uncle Pak Long) on 15 Aug 2012, before taking the bus home to Taiping. Obviously with tears in his eyes, he would relate me the story of how bapak was so excited when he was in KL, noting that he would not be able to make that journey himself. I don't remember the details of this conversation anymore, nor the conversation I had at the end of the year 1984 when I returned (for the second time that year) other than that point.

I am sure there were stories told by Pak Lang about his haj trip immediately after the death of his own brother.

It is within this context that I told K Sham (at the ICU ward corridor) a day before Mak's eventual demise that her trip for Haj this year had its parallelism with that of Pak Long and bapak. Days before his eldest brother flew to Makkah, bapak passed away; twenty eight years later, days before her eldest daughter went for her haj, Mak passed away.

In my sister's case, three days later, to be precise (Mak passed away on the 16 Sept 2012, while she flew out to Makkah on 19 Sept 2012).

In a sense, I am not sure if there was anything to make from this two parallelism in our lives. I am not sure if it would be advantageous for the dead, if a close relative were to be in Makkah for haj, immediately after their death. Perhaps there was none. Perhaps there was. I don't know.

But I am sure the both of them would have benefited from having his eldest bro, and eldest daughter performing one of the pillars of Islam - the Haj. Being at the two holiest cities of Islam, and being a traveler (musafir), one can only think positively of one's ability to reach out to Him.

I am sure they would have had their prayers heard at Masjid Nabawi and right in front of the Kaaba. One can't get to holier sites than these two. 

Last night, I went to greet the two hujjaj coming back from Mekah at the KLIA. I have not had the opportunity to talk at length with my sis and brother-in-law as yet. I am not sure if she had any story to tell of Mak (or bapak) during the past 1 1/2 months she was in Makkah/Madinah, and I can't wait for all kind of stories one would get from our hujjaj.

KLIA 3 Nov 2012 at 2315 hours
Especially that of Mak.

Welcome home K Sham and Abang Jabar.
Lama tak jumpa. TUan Hj Jabar memeluk
anak bongsunya Madiha.

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Jom jadi anak-anak yang soleh

Alhamdulillah, I was told by one of my siblings that somehow they got bored reading my entries on Mak as they seems to portray that I was such a good son to Mak. I smiled when I heard that, thank you very much for the reminder. The problem is that I don't remember having big/major disagreement with Mak; I tend to agree with her most of the time. So I don't have that much - if at all - to tell in term of disagreement with Mak. In other words, the bad sides of my relationship with Mak.

Hence my story lines in previous entries have been very consistent, and I standby on my stories.

It was not my intention to show off, or brag to all and sundry. What's point? Would I be richer? Not really, I am not gaining anything, material-wise. I am only seeking jannah through Mak's blessing. That's all. Uwais al-Qarny said this to his mother, when she asked him if he had asked for forgiveness from Allah for all of his own sins (other than asking for forgiveness for his mother's sins):

"Dengan terampunnya dosa ibu, ibu akan masuk syurga. Cukuplah ibu redha dengan saya. Maka saya juga masuk syurga. "

That's exactly what I am hoping with Mak. I do hope that she is satisfied with me. Indication from my other sibling who talked to her is that she was. I can only hope; I don't know for sure. So if anyone feels like I am bragging, I seek His forgiveness for doing that (hopefully without intention). Bragging is normally done to seek someone's attention - or favour - and that someone is no longer around to see, or read my entries.

You see, filial piety is not a zero-sum game. If I have done my part for Mak - I hope I have, then it does not mean other siblings have not done it. If you have done it, on the other hand, it does not mean I (and others) have not done it. It is not like that only one person in the family can do good things to Mak. 

Everybody could, and many have done them.

In other words, we need not compete with each other. Even if we are not endowed with similar capacity financially, and hence may create some form of competition, but if one were to use percentage in providing for Mak, then we can equalize things. My ringgit may not exactly be worth the same as your ringgit, if you know what I mean. A poor person's ringgit is valued higher than the same ringgit donated by a rich person.

But then again, our loves, care for Mak and the likes, these are things every children can bestow upon their parents, regardless of their financial position or worldly possessions. If Kak Sham can care for Mak with such loves that Mak can be (really) satisfied with her, there is nothing stopping me from doing the same thing - technically speaking, that is. If my youngest sister could take unpaid leave to care for Mak, now that's something that I have not done for Mak.

Mak could be with us until the judgment day, most likely I will not have the opportunity to do what she did. I'll be the first to admit.

So everyone of us could do the same things, or do something totally different, or even more, and Mak (and we) will be rewarded accordingly.

But to be honest, when I read the Chinese filial devotion stories, my heart just stopped.

I felt so small going by their tales, and what I have done for Mak seems miniscule. Too miniscule.

How can you surpass this woman who cut her own liver to feed her mother; or the boy (he was eight) who was shirtless the whole night so as to draw the mosquitoes away from his parents; or the man who sold himself to servitude to pay for his father's funeral?

YOu can read about them here. This was also featured by the The Star many weeks ago.

The shirtless boy Wu Mang said, "All my blood comes from my parents; if this cannot be given to the mosquitoes, how can I do something to honour my parents when I grow up."

Who would you value more, should you need to choose, between your children and your parents? Most would say that we would never be in that position having to choose one over the other. We hope so. Most likely we can cater to both of them. But you'd be surprised how challenges (dugaan) can be put on your pathway by Him that would warrant you to think of that. I was given one at the height of Mak's illness. I had mistakenly thought at that time that my children are more important that Mak. After all, I thought, they are the future, and should be treated accordingly. And I excused myself by saying that Mak also has other children to care for her in my absence.

I was totally wrong when I read the Chinese filial stories where parents are everything. I would like to seek Mak's forgiveness for even thinking that way. This is my regret towards the end of Mak's life for even having such thought. She may never know such thing had crossed my mind, but the regret is here in my heart nevertheless. Something I could not deny.

Kuo Chu AD265
Kuo Chu has three sons. His mother reduces her food in order to give some to her grandsons. He then discusses with his wife: "I feel very sad, our mother always spares her food for our sons. She herself does not actually get enough food. You can give birth to more sons. Could you give birth to our mother? Hence, better it is to bury our sons and let our mother have sufficient food." His wife agrees with him.

Three feet deep they have dug in the ground, but instead of burying their sons, they find some large pieces of gold on which it is written: "God of wealth gives this gold to the filial Kuo and his wife!"

Masya Allah, such a beautiful story. Something I could not emulate in my lifetime, even if I am given another. If you still have a mother or father, remember Kuo Chu. You can read more of him and other filial devotion stories in Twenty Four Stories of Filial Piety with Pictures and Poems.

Why I am quoting such Chinese stories here in my blog? Filial piety and devotion cut across all boundaries and cultures. It does not matter if they are Chinese or Middle Eastern, they are something for us to cherish in the modern world where monies are more important than devotion to our parents.

There are more stories from our own religion.

I cried when Dr Harun Din (he's such a good story teller) related in Mekah in 2010 the story of Uwais al-Qarny whose devotion to his mother is second to none. Someone who had carried his mother all the way from Yemen to Makkatul Mukarramah for the Haj. Can I be one? Would I be able to do such thing? No way. I know I am not Uwais. Not even close. 

Read the exploits of Uwais Al-Qarny.

I did not even go with Mak when she was doing her Haj when I should have, let alone carried her, and I was the eldest son. Instead she went alone, all by herself. Shame on me. Luckily nothing untoward happened.

You know, irrespective of how we had treated Mak when she was alive, we can all be anak-anak yang soleh, and anak-anak yang soleh is - like filial piety - not a zero-sum game. The two phases of Mak's life may not necessarily be identical, as far as we, her children, are concerned. Everybody can change, and I am now adamant too to be an anak yang soleh.

For Mak. And Bapak.

Because I was not. And I am nowhere near being one at this very moment.

But neither is this a competition amongst family members, and everyone can be one. The more the merrier for Mak and bapak, and insyaAllah, our own children will be one themselves. For our own sake.

When I pray that we will all be granted the status of anak-anak soleh, one should aminkan the prayer/doa. It is for us all, and not meant to show off to everybody that I am an anak soleh.

I wish I am.

I asked my eldest sister K Sham a week after she arrived in Mekah (for Haj 2012) to pray for all of us to be anak-anak soleh, knowing well this would be our tickets to be in touch with Mak (and bapak) again, and to help them in the afterlife. Once someone has passed away, their connection to this world is over. Whatever we have accumulated in term of wealth, whatever our shortcoming previously in dealing with Mak, will no longer be of used to her.

The only way we can pay back our non-deeds (if I may term of it that way) for our parents would be by being an anak-anak soleh.

I bought this book Dahsyatnya Doa Ibu last week. Actually Arif bought it, after I argued that the book is of no use to me anymore without Mak. There is a chapter towards the end about berbakti dan berdoa selepas ibu tiada, and that's very relevant to me. It is a good reminder of what I could still do for Mak eventhough she is no longer with us. It lists down everything that we could as children of our parents.

It is full of anecdotes, and stories that we could emulate. It talks about

1. mendoakan ibu
2. melaksanakan wasiat dan nazar
3. silaturahim with kerabat
4. berbakti kepada ibu saudara sebagai pengganti ibu
5. Menziarahi dan berdoa di kubur ibu
6. Bersedeqah untuk ibu
7. Menunaikan haji untuk ibu

I am told that berbakti kepada ibu dapat menebus dosa.

It talks about seven deeds yang terus mengalir pahalanya. It talks about the virtue of doing good deeds to and for our parents.

There is a story that is quoted from Irsyadul Ibad. It was told by an ahli ibadah. Beliau bercerita, "Aku bermimpi melihat ramai ahli kubur keluar dari kubur mereka dan mengutip sesuatu. Antara mereka aku melihat ada seorang ahli kubur hanya duduk di atas kuburnya tanpa mengambil apa-apa. Aku pun mendekatinya seraya bertanya, "Apakah yang mereka ambil itu?"

Dia menjawab, "Kiriman hadiah dari kaum muslimin iaitu bacaan doa atau Quran."

Lalu aku bertanya lagi, "Mengapa kamu tidak ikut sama mengambilnya?"

"Aku sudah cukup," jawabnya.

Aku tidak memahami maksudnya dan bertanya, "Bagaimana?"

Dia berkata, "Setiap hari, anakku mengirimkan hadiah untukku. Dia menjual kuih di pasar."

Keesokan paginya, aku pergi kepasar dan mencari anak ahli kubur yang aku mimpi kan malam tadi. Ternyata anaknya seorang pemuda. Aku melihat bibirnya asyik terkumat kamit. Aku bertanya kepadanya, " Mengapa bibirmu asyik bergerak-gerak?"

Dia menjawab, "Aku mengucapkan ayat-ayat Quran dan aku hadiahkan untuk ayahku yang sudah meninggal dunia."

Tidak lama selepas itu, aku bermimpi lagi. Aku melihat semua orang mati dalam kubur keluar dan orang yang duduk dahulu turut mengambil kiriman ayat-ayat qur'an dan doa seperti kawan-kawannya. Apabila aku terbangun daripada tidur, aku segera kepasar dan mencari anaknya yang menjual kuih. Apabila aku sampai di situ, ada orang memberitahuku, pemuda itu sudah meninggal!

Just imagine, there are 12 of anak-anak Mak still living. If we can all be like that pemuda whose mulut terkumat-kamit berzikir and membaca qur'an, just imagine how wonderful it would be for Mak. And bapak. That's the beauty of someone who had given birth to 12 children and adopted another. This is not something I could even get close to with only two children of my own. Now I can see the beauty of having many children. 

Ya Allah, jadikanlah kami semua anak-anak yang soleh yang terus berbakti untuk kedua ibu-bapa kami. Amin.

EPILOGUE

If I have been less than polite in pin-pointing some of our shortcomings in our relationship with Mak, treat it as a reminder form an elder brother. Treat it as a base from which we can improve our deeds for the next phase of Mak's life. 

I may be right, I might be wrong, but in the end it does not matter at all to us. I am not important; I am just the messenger. I write from the heart. Unfortunately it may get in someone's way. I can't help it there to be honest.

But if there is any fact that is wrong, let me know. I stand corrected.

Treat it in a positive manner such that we would all be heading to be anak-anak Mak yang soleh.