Come back please?

As rows of trees pass by him, he sits quietly in the train. Although the train is moving at a fast speed, his heart barely beats. His heart bleeds, not because he has failed in his studies again, no. His heart bleeds, not because someone stabbed his heart, no. His heart bleeds, along with the mixture of memories. His heart, is best described as (sorry to those who likes coffee) a cup of coffee – not just unable to see the bottom of the cup, and hot, but most importantly, bitterness of coffee.

 

He tries to give his overloading brain a rest by closing his eyes. But ironically, things get even more clearer than with eyes wide open: Again, he sees the repeating memory; He saw this monitor, containing a maximized Mozilla Firefox browsing on Meebo with lots of conversation boxes. The second box on the top was from his sister, with the last message which posted:

 

“I think I’m going back.”

 

However, the top box caught his attention the most - It was from his little brother. The conversation was very very long, but few sentences captured by his eyes:

 

“You heard what happened to her right?”…

“Doctor said it’s just a matter of time and just be prepared”…

“She’s 86 already you know”…

“Can you come back to see her for one last time?”…

 

Everything around was as if silenced, only the voice of the tutor in the Visual Basic course that he was attending. His fingers were frozen, while he sitting in the room, which was quite warm. In his heat vicious waves roar, although the surrounding was quite comfortable. How to reply, he asked himself…

 

“How to reply?”, indeed…

 

….

 

He doesn’t want to disappoint the wish of his younger brother. To have his normally-cold-and-“jahat” brother to ask him to come back, it’s certainly not usual. He himself misses her a lot too. The cost of the ticket to go back is certainly not a big deal, although it will devour half of his current savings. Airasia offer is over. But at the same time, he doesn’t want to terminate all the efforts and plans he has been doing since the past more than one month. His preparation, to him, is quite satisfying – an effort that he has never put in in his entire life. Throwing future just because of present? Or chasing future and ignoring the present?

 

How to fulfill both of the very end side?

 

He thinks again of the storm that is about to come. He has no umbrella, yet he still made Mickey out of the cute bear (or pig) with umbrella. How irony is that huh? Then he asked the friend of the, ermm.. let’s just call it bear, with umbrella, a question of the very opposite of the question he asked to Gloria: What will happen to non-Christians after they die?

 

*side-note: I don’t want to argue over religious issue now, so just let me, ok?*

 

She replied, “You should know the answer…”

Indeed, he does know the answer, but he just replied, “I don’t know..” He doesn’t want to accept the answer.

The clever friend of the cute bear replied, “There are only two place to go: Heaven or Hell.”

 

His heart was like the Titanic, collided with iceberg, sunk into the freezing sea. He wished to hear something else. But he knew, that’s not going to happen. She would’ve been lying if she said something else. He doesn’t want his Grandma to go to Hell (*what a strong word.. sweat*), but how to bring her from the gate of death to heaven? How to ask someone who has been doing prayer every morning and evening every single day? How to ask someone whose faith is more than 40 years and its level is comparable to the monks? How to ask someone who has turned normal wood beads into black and shiny pearls? Again, he forced himself to hold back the bursting tears.

 

…

 

Then he recalls, out of sudden, some pieces of memories, that would’ve been lost if not because of this ‘news’…

 

His parents were always busy, working hard to provided some living for he and his siblings. So, it’s natural for them to go next town to deliver the goods frequently. Seldom they would bring all four of them altogether, since it would be very troublesome. So, the kids were always dropped at the grandmother’s house. In fact, the kids liked to go to their grandmother’s house. Not just because of her cooking was superb, not just because of the “Kopi-O” candies that she always gave them, not just because of the sofas that were always joined together to form ships with the pillows as cannon bombs to fight against each other during the day and the boats became beds at night, not just because the pool outside where frogs loved to lay eggs and they loved catching the tadpoles, not just because the drain with what they-called “drain fishes”, not just because the cute dog named “Ai-li” that their uncle have at grandmother’s house and they liked to play with her (the dog), not just because the chickens that she raised which in the end swallowed by a enough-to-swallow-him snake, but simply the warmth and affection of their grandmother. He likes his grandmother, although his grandmother likes his same-birth-date sister more: The biggest drumstick was always to her, and of course, he was jealous. The kids would fight for the poor piece of chicken, and he would always lose, left crying (his specialty), and later being comforted by his “big-aunty”, who pampered him more than anyone else. Oh, he suddenly remember a photo of him holding a piece of drumstick. Was it him? or his older brother? When mom couldn’t even tell… Sweat…

 

Sometimes when their parents were late to pick them, the kids would already been sleeping, with the grandmother watching over them, with her knitted spade-shape-rattan-made fan, blowing streams peace and comfort to them… What a piece of memory…

 

Things went on as the children grew up, the much missed grandmother-house were eventually sold, and their grandmother was living with the kids with since then. Watching her grew older, her husband passed away, now herself lying in hospital… It might be her turn next, at least that’s what the doctor said.

 

He still remembered last summer break, when he went back for holiday from where he currently is. She was already very old, but the delight was still there, seeing the grandchild who left the house 3 years ago to study at other places. They had small chat, and she said it might be her last time to see him. His heart soured. Forcing himself for a weak smile, he said to her,

 

“Grandma, you will live and attend my wedding in the future.”

 

She gave him a smile, and nodded.

 

But now, he is still far from that promise, 10 years at least, as said by one of his friends, yet she is already lying on bed in hospital. He wishes to tell her to continue to live and come to his wedding in the future, he does not wish to give up that dim light of hope… But reality is sometimes, or would say often, cruel…

 

However, continue to live… please, his heart cries.

 

He don’t understand. Why his that smart-and-knowledgeable-but-just-kutuk-ed-him-at-his-blog “big brother” always have the chance to see his tears? Why just when he thought the bad things are settled down, they just whooped up with “muahahaha, I’m back” and haunted him again?

 

Christmas is coming, alright. The first time he came to this foreign land, his Christmas wish is to experience the so-called White Christmas with presents. Then came this ‘outstanding’ academic performance with consequence that he had to allocate time in Christmas break to study. Now came this news, (might-be) no more that longing White Christmas and still-preparing study plan? He feels himself is worst than Harry Potter - He had great adventures during Christmas, at least.

 

What else he could want for this Christmas. What else he could have for this Christmas. All he wants now is to ask this “Birthday Boy”. All he wants now is to talk to his Father. All he wants now is to have the Holy Spirit guide him. And definitely, what he does not want is one liter of tears again.

 

He wants sugar in the coffeecup. Any suggestions?

*update: Somehow, he sees where he should do, what he should do already...