Noel (III)
I laid there, as motionless as I could.
I did nothing for I didn't know how long. I didn't cry nor did I speak.
I just stared. Muted all my senses.
As death as I could be, there's no big difference between me and the expressionless wooden marionette that used to lay in the corner of my room with Ms. Bee.
Mommy's gone.
I did nothing for I didn't know how long. I didn't cry nor did I speak.
I just stared. Muted all my senses.
As death as I could be, there's no big difference between me and the expressionless wooden marionette that used to lay in the corner of my room with Ms. Bee.
Mommy's gone.
* * *
I remember how hard I cried at Grandma's funeral last summer.
I remember how everyone was dressed in black, the color that I dislike most. My mom wore black and so did Dad. I remember they forced me to wear a black dress too. I cried at that time, yelling "Grandma" all the time. Wishing she was here. She hated black too, so I knew she wouldn't force me to wear it. But, no matter how hard I yell or how many times I called her, she wouldn't appeared at the door of my room.
Not anymore.
"I want grandma!"
"Ooh.. honey, honey. No, don't cry. Grandma will be sad if she sees you cry."
"I don't care. Where is she? I want her!"
"She's gone, honey. She's going on a journey. A long journey."
"She's not coming back?"
"No. I'm afraid she's not."
"Why? Am I upsetting her? I promise I'll be a good girl."
"No, Izzie honey. You are not upsetting her. She's gone because she must. It's a journey she must take."
I cried till I wore myself out that night. The house seems so empty without the presence of grandma. I cried under my pillow. Wondering how dare she left me. I missed her already. With every tears that rolled through my cheeks, every memory of her flowed away from my memory. Every moment together, her laugh, her sweet lullaby to me, her angry expression to me. It all came out in just one night, and slowly she resided away. Leaving me to sleep.
The next thing I knew, grandma was a vague memory.
I remember how everyone was dressed in black, the color that I dislike most. My mom wore black and so did Dad. I remember they forced me to wear a black dress too. I cried at that time, yelling "Grandma" all the time. Wishing she was here. She hated black too, so I knew she wouldn't force me to wear it. But, no matter how hard I yell or how many times I called her, she wouldn't appeared at the door of my room.
Not anymore.
"I want grandma!"
"Ooh.. honey, honey. No, don't cry. Grandma will be sad if she sees you cry."
"I don't care. Where is she? I want her!"
"She's gone, honey. She's going on a journey. A long journey."
"She's not coming back?"
"No. I'm afraid she's not."
"Why? Am I upsetting her? I promise I'll be a good girl."
"No, Izzie honey. You are not upsetting her. She's gone because she must. It's a journey she must take."
I cried till I wore myself out that night. The house seems so empty without the presence of grandma. I cried under my pillow. Wondering how dare she left me. I missed her already. With every tears that rolled through my cheeks, every memory of her flowed away from my memory. Every moment together, her laugh, her sweet lullaby to me, her angry expression to me. It all came out in just one night, and slowly she resided away. Leaving me to sleep.
The next thing I knew, grandma was a vague memory.
And so, I didn't cry this time. Not because I didn't want to, but because I was afraid.
Afraid that if I cried, mom would say her final goodbye too.
Afraid that if I cried, mom would say her final goodbye too.
* * *
But that night, I heard those sound once again, that loud and deafening sound. I saw those light again.
Darkness seems so overwhelming, I couldn't breathe.
Someone calling my name.
I woke up, screaming.
Judy rushed into the room, running.
And it was at Judy's arms that I finally cried.
(to be continued..)
Darkness seems so overwhelming, I couldn't breathe.
Someone calling my name.
I woke up, screaming.
Judy rushed into the room, running.
And it was at Judy's arms that I finally cried.
(to be continued..)
Her favourite Indonesian Authors are Sitta Karina and Ilana Tan. 
The Tsujimarus.
