I had a nightmare last week.
I dreamt that my father passed away during a trip to Johor. I remember seeing my sister and her two girls crying, with frantic eyes in front of the elevator. I remember seeing the emergency hotel staffs and paramedics trying to resuscitate him, my mother crying on the edge of the bed, telling me that my father is gone. And I remember feeling like my world came crashing down.
I remember crying and hoping that he would make it eventhough, in my heart I knew that he was gone. I remember every detail but everything seemed so hazy. I remember locking myself in the toilet, crying, and praying to god that my father will be taken care of.
I remember being in the van jenazah, rushing to go back to KL and I remember seeing my brothers, sister-in-law crying and hugging.
But it wasn't a dream. It was real.
A real nightmare that I am just waiting to wake up from.
It has been a week since my father passed and I feel so, so empty. I feel like a part of me has been ripped off and what is left is just an empty hole. No words can explain how much I miss him, how much I long for his embrace, seeing him smile and laugh.
But I know he is in good hands, InsyaAllah. That is what makes me go through the day, knowing that he is OK. Safe to say, my father's funeral went on beautifully. There were so much love from families and friends. And that, I thank each and everyone's presence, from the bottom of my heart.
I love you so much Ayah. You were my hero, you still are.
I love you. I love you. I love you.