I never thought that day would actually come. I mean, the day before I flew to Germany for the first time, I heard my Pakde (uncle) told me the story how he had to fly back immediately to Jakarta after receiving the news that his mother passed away. I was just wondering what if that happened to me.
And you know, it happened. It really happened.
I was supposed to stay in Germany this summer. I already booked ticket to Rome, Italy. I was just about to go to my exams for two weeks, and then my friends were supposed to come by and having sleepover with me for two days and then I would fly to Rome with another friend and having fun for a week.
But life threw me a lemon. (In fact, life has been throwing me stale lemons this year). My Pakde -- the same Pakde who told me the story-- called me and told me that my dad passed away unexpectedly due to heart attack. My Dad was healthy enough to play tennis, that's what my Pakde told me. But suddenly, he fell down during the game. And just like that, he's gone forever.
What did I feel? I wasn't sure. That's really indescribable. I was angry. I was sad. I was relief -- knowing my Dad would be in a better place then.
Up until now, I'm still not sure what I feel. I'm still sad. I'm lost. I'm not angry anymore, I guess. All I know, his death really changed me and the way I look at the world now. Although, it's been more than a month and it still feels surreal.
I will write about how perfect he was as a dad. I will write about how inspiring he was. But not now. Because for now, all I want to do is just distracting myself. Though I'm masochist enough to put Hurt by Christina Aguilera on repeat. (And really, the lyric describes this situation perfectly).
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