Hypoglycemic

My heart was in my hand. My head when blank for a while. I kept watching mum pacing here and there with unexplained expression on her face.

Dad unconscious. Those where the last words I heard from my kid sister between her weeping and crying.

Mum woke my little brother up and he quickly put on his jeans and shirt as we need to rush off to hospital. Details was fuzzy and so is my logic.

I only jump to my sense after a long hard minutes. Change my cloth and rush to the door.

On the way my sister called. More weeping and crying. It was hard for me to kept my calm. I mustered some courage to breakdown her sentences into words and phrases that I can stomach. Deep down in my heart I was trying to delay her news and preparing myself for the worst. I know mum’s ear was rooted to our conversation. My brother sped up the car.

After a while , I finally understand her sobbing. I’m glad that dad’s regain his consciousness. I am glad for the nurse that scold the immature doctor that take it lightly, I am glad that as we arrive I can still be able to kiss my dad’s hand and he return with a weak smile.

It was a bad night for us. The longest ride to hospital. The painful feeling of sitting quietly in the car. Nothing else matter only praying hard in our heart that Allah will gave us some miracle in this Holy month of Ramadhan.

Although much preparation throughout the years.I know in my heart, I am not really ready to let go.

Dear Allah the most merciful , most gracious, most wonderful.You know what is in my heart more than I do and You know what is best for us more that we do.

To You I Surrender.

 

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