liyana,
The doctors were completely devoid of reasons as to why this had happened to you. Your father told me so in between sobs when I met him at your funeral which I rushed to once the plane has touched down. I saw the man who stood before me, the one who you always looked up to, broken and lost at the inexplicable medical reasons given to him the night of your passing.
In his tears, I witnessed his love for you.
I held back mine and hugged him. I had to be strong for the people you left behind. You would have wanted me to.
It came to me in bits and pieces. Aneurysm, that was what they heard the doctor said. You were fine one minute helping out your parents serving the meals for family dinner, and then suddenly everyone heard the sound of glass shattered against hard surface. Your mother screamed when she saw your body lay helpless on the floor. She kept telling everyone how she called out your name but you just lay still. I could not remember whether it was your brother or his wife who dialed the emergency number.
Your sister ran into the emergency room bare-footed. Your father still had his apron on. None of it was making sense, they claimed. None of it.
But perhaps I would be able to point out that you frequently complained of migraine of late. Of headaches that made us cancel our dinner dates with friends and stayed at home instead. Of painkillers you took, just so you could get out of bed and function.
I was concerned back then but we were young. Whatever it was, it should not have been fatal. Besides you never had any medical conditions. Thus, we chose to ignore the signs.
That was wrong of me. I should have known better.
I should have done something about it. Should have insisted to have it checked.
I should have taken better care of you.
I did not.
And there I sat among the last one to leave your grave. The earth was cool to touch. Slightly damp. It must have drizzled last night.
I wanted to reach into the earth and grab hold of your hand.
I could not bear the thought of leaving you there alone.
chairil