"Sometimes I wish I could freeze the picture."Hi, Blog. It’s been a long time. Sorry, lately I’ve chosen cooking as my way to heal. But cooking can be tiring, so today I decided to write instead. There’s so much going on in my mind, but no one I can really talk to. So please, just listen.
A lot has happened in the past few years, Blog. I thought the age of 29 going into 30 was my life crisis. But it turns out, that was just the beginning. Life hit me from all directions. It got to a point where I couldn’t even tell what I truly wanted and what I wanted just because I was pressured.
Last December, I lost an aunty. She was always cheerful, full of kind words, and very loving. It wasn’t the first loss in our big family, but losing someone as an adult hits differently. Two weeks after she passed, I started dealing with more frequent panic attacks.
A few weeks before Eid, we were told that our oldest aunty was taken to the hospital because she had trouble breathing. It felt like a fresh wound being poured with alcohol. Worry, fear – everything came all at once. I just wanted to say, “Allah, we’re not ready for another loss.” But Allah is kind, and He allowed our aunty to recover.
This year’s Eid felt quiet. Lately, my mind has been replaying childhood memories. Memories I once thought were just normal now feel beautiful but also painful. I watched my nieces and nephews growing up. I saw how excited they were to get Eid money. I saw them play and laugh together – and it reminded me of my younger self. That used to be us. Lining up to get Eid money together, counting it, then playing in Grandma’s room. We used to hide under the blankets, turn off the lights, and try to scare each other. Grandma’s room would turn into a mess, but she never once got mad. Now, those kids are my nieces and nephews. The only difference is, instead of playing under blankets, they play on their phones together.
On the third day of Eid, the uncle who lives next to my house suddenly got worse after a year of having a stroke. He lost his appetite, fell often because his legs were weak, and slept a lot. Then he started talking nonsense. Again, my childhood memories replayed in my head. This uncle used to be so active, fast, hardworking – now he’s helpless. I still remember him taking me to school and later to my first job at a bank. When we had tutoring at his house, he would prepare snacks for us. Every night after work, my siblings and I would wait by the window to get treats from him. He was a kind uncle who really cared about others. And now, he can barely walk. Why, God? Why take the gift of health from such a good person?
Two days ago, we had an open house. My mom and I were thinking about the same thing — we remembered our aunty who had just passed away. She used to always come early in the morning to help us cook during open house events. I still clearly remember two years ago when she helped us by frying nuggets. But she didn’t make them crispy. I said, “Uak, the nuggets aren’t crispy yet.” Then she replied, “Oh, you want them crispy? Imam and Ari — her sons — like them a bit soft.” Then she fried them again. Last year during Eid, she rode with us in our car to visit relatives out of town. She told us that the clothes she was wearing were bought by her son—they had gone shopping together at a mall. This year, she is no longer with us so is the car, and we didn’t visit those relatives. Who would’ve thought that moment is now just a memory, something that will never happen again. Al-Fatihah.
Last night, I met my friends to celebrate Eid. It was around 9 p.m. when we were having dinner. I asked to leave early because that’s already “curfew” in my dad’s book. I joked, “Be patient, guys. Once I’m married, we can talk for hours.” Then one of my friends replied, “Then find a husband who’s okay with that.” I answered, “Oh, for sure. That’s something I talk about from the start. I feel like 32 years of my life being so restricted and receiving cold treatment and little care is enough.” I want my future kids to have happy memories like I did – and not painful ones, especially when it comes to their parents or family. The cycle stops with me.
But you know what, Blog? All of this has taught me to let go and be more grateful. If I still have good memories, there are many people out there who can’t even recall one happy moment. For so many years, Allah gave me blessings and beautiful memories. But now, just because things have changed recently, I’ve already started to complain? How ungrateful you are, Sofi.
It made me realize how arrogant I’ve been – thinking I can control everything, thinking it’s all because of me and my efforts. How prideful you are, Sofi. No matter what happens, I’ve learned to believe that everything I go through, and everything the people around me go through, is exactly what we need – not what we want. As said in Al-Baqarah 2:216.
Thank you for listening to me, blog. It feels like it’s been a really long time. As we grow older, we learn to keep everything to ourselves. Lately, I’m tired of explaining who I am. Because every time I do, I get judged, blamed, or misunderstood. There’s so much I want to share, but I realize not everyone has the time to listen, not everyone needs my stories — they have their own struggles too. In the end, I’ve come to realize that the only person I truly have is myself.
7 April 2025. 7:55 pm
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