I could not believe how short-lived our live is. One second you feel like you're on top of the world, like everything is finally going your way and there is definitely nothing that could stop you from getting what you want out of life. Next thing you know, you're end up lying on the cold greenish morgue table, ready to be cut up for autopsy like a cold dead unwanted fish ready to be tossed out the window. In fact, you're really is one. Cold and dead. With nothing to hold onto.
I can't seem to keep myself together. After what had happen, how could I? How would you react if your own 10-years old sweet daughter end up being butchered, raped, murdered, and toss out somewhere near the dump? The only reason left for me to keep on living is to find the perperator no matter where he is, dead or alive. Haunt him down. Make he feels the same way as I do or even worse. Make sure he pays for every drop of blood and tears he caused my daughter to spill. More or less, that's what being playing in my mind, like some camcorder that won't goes off on its own unless the battery is finally dead, or in my case, my own life to be exact. How shallow my life is after her death. I'm practically a living zombie. Remorseful, full of hatred and unresolved anger pent up inside of me.
Somebody suggested I should go to see a psychiatrist. Let them talk me out of my own misery. Help me used up all my destructive energy for something useful, something positive. Someone suggest me go and talk to someone who lives the same hell like I do. Or better yet, go somewhere else and starts life anew. I could only laugh out loud at their ideas. Do they think it will be that easy to forget? Much less to forgive? Humph..I wonder.. My thought is much simpler: let him rot in hell!! But before he does, let me give him some of the taste beforehand.
And so, 6 months slowly passed and yet I'm still mourning over her. I finally have the courage to sift through her old books and stuff inside the small colorful room of hers. Somehow, I know deep in my heart, she will want me to move on. I've got to start somewhere, shouldn't I? My younger sister offered to help clear the room before, but I know, if I want a definite closure, this is what I should do myself.
I remember she always had been a bookworm, always had been fascinated with all the small details written inside every single books she can read to, and keep on telling me how much she wants to be a writer later on. I suspect she already begun writing one. While shifting through her most favorites little pink fairy tale story book, I finally found the 'peace' I've needed so much. Her one long notes, in big scrawny readable letters written 2 days before her death. It says:
To mama: (please read this when i'm not around, for I'm sure you'll be mad at me after you read this).
I went to the blue mosque again last Wednesday. The time when i told you I want to eat that particular big O-Jelly from the Q-store. I take a quick peek inside the mosque since I was curious what's inside it that always makes you hate me so much for going there.
I met this old thin man with a very long white beard inside. I ask him: "is there any chance for me to see your God today since ours is only available on Sunday? He asks me back: "why would I need to see Him?". Then I told him, I want some help from his God to help you. (please don't be mad at me). I told him that you're always angry at God for making your life and mine difficult, and you never actually believe in Him in the first place. The old man said that you can't be angry with God if you don't believe in Him in the first place. He also told me that God is actually always there with us every step of the way, listen to and knows what's already in our heart. If only we can open up our heart, talks to Him, and confine in Him, then and only then can we feel the inner peace that we so wanted to. We should have faith in Him, and embrace Him in our life. He- the One and Only, the Ruler of the universe and the Almighty.
I don't know why, but what he said kinda stuck in my head. I saw him reading some book. I'll ask him if I could borrow it for a while. And he said ok. He told me that the book is the words of God, his truly ultimate long love letter to His creation, and I can find all sorts of thing in it. He told me to read it slowly, and asks him back if I don't understand anything. I already read some of it. From the back coz it's shorter, and in translations since I cannot understand the Arabic.
I loved this one short story because somehow I can feel it's relating to me:
"In the name of God, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.
By the glorious morning light
And by the night when it is still
Your Guardian Lord has not forsaken you nor is He displease
and verily the hereafter is better for you than the present
and soonly, your Guardian Lord will give you that (all goods)
so that you will be well pleased.
Did He not find you an orphan and gave you shelter?
and He found you wandering and He gives you guidance?
Therefore, treat not the orphan with harshness
nor repulse the petitioner
and the bounty of your Lord, proclaimed.
Oh, how I wish for you to read this book too! It might help you cool off a bit. I hate to see you so angry all the time. Please find it in your heart to forgive daddy for leaving us. I believe that God has something else good stored for us. If not in this life, maybe in the hereafter. I just want you to feel the same thing like I do when i read this book. I've started to talk to Him too. The old man said: it's called Du'a. He told me that a muslim prays to God 5 times per day, and after that you can ask all those thing that you want from Him, although in reality, you can actually talk to Him anytime you want to. Isn't that great? He's there 24-7 for us!!!
ps: please please please don't get mad at me. Like you always said- I want the best things for you. (actually I want you to have THE BEST THINGS IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD!!!).
double ps: I love you mama!! And He (God) loves you too!! (that i'm sure of). XXOO from me.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt like choking up. My 10 years old daughter was more sober up than me, and she finds the true peace on her own! I instantly know that she is fine up there, with Him as her sole guidance. I picked up the 'book' that my daughter clearly so fond of before she died. Later that night, before going to sleep, with her notes and the book clutched safely to my chest, I've said slowly to myself: " Dear Haley, I know now why you look so calm and serene despite all the brutal blows that you suffered from. You have found Him, and thank Him, that I can finally say, so am I. So am I.... "
T_T
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