She's apart of our family

The unpredictability and hecticness of the days that have come and gone has blown in another day for me to spare; Friday. I am not, by any means, stating this out of relief that the weekend is a day away but out of sadness and melancholy that our days with Aunt Manisah and her daughter in our residence have been narrowed down to two. And soon, it would be that time again when hugs and well wishes will be exchanged and goodbyes will be said.

Tonight, at the Mani's residence, a farewell/birthday party was initiated for her. Everyone, from close relatives to family friends who knew her, chipped in their time and effort to make it all possible. A wide spread of glorious food was laid out on the dining table, mostly home-cooked made out of love. Uncle Kevin willingly helped Nanny out at the kitchen by volunteering to do a dish - his true speciality, Pasta. Seeing it as an open opportunity, I took the liberty to learn his dish. He was nice (and patient) enough to teach me by starting off with the basics - I had to chop onions and garlics, grate carrots, half-fry the ham and then stir and stir and stir some more until my hand ached. He guided me through the recipe and in the end, I was given the rights to say that I made the dish.

By a quarter to 8 pm., when guests started filling up the living room, Aunt Manisah was escorted from her room by her daughter to engage in what turned out to be a memorable night. Dinner was served and shortly afterwards, so was desert... and then followed by a cake. As she sat at the head of the table with everyone else surrounding her, singing her a birthday song and saying prayers for her, her expression gave away the strong front she was trying to put up. She was so overwhelmed by emotion and touched by everything, that there was no room to be composed. Even her daughter couldn't help it. It was only after I hugged her and spoke with her that I found out that apparently, back at their home in Indonesia, birthdays cannot afford to be celebrated. So, seeing the wide spread of food fit for a king, and being surrounded by people who love her, was something she never experienced before. Her tears strangulated her voice as she tried to thank each and everyone of us, but... we understood.

Before the night came to an end, there was one last thing planned for her. Or to be more specific, to present to her.

As a small token of love from us to her, I wanted to make her a video. And in that video, my brother and I would sing "Keep holding on" while a slide-show of our pictures with her would be shown as well. We had hours and hours of practice and recording test-runs. We also dug out albums which held our pictures with her, capturing each and every one of them for the video slide-show. But in the end, my plan did not follow through. Everything was rushed and time was slipping through our fingers so we had no other choice but to do it live, in front of her. You would think that I would be ready after all those hours of practice but I wasn't. I hesitated. And at the last minute, it was my brother and sister who talked me into doing it. They insisted and would not take a "no" for an answer.

Dad did our intro, thanking her and making sure she knows how much of a blessing she has been to us over the years. His words tugged at all of our hearts and in no time the whole room was filled with teary eyes and broken hearts. Before I even began the song, I lost it. I could not hold myself together because it was too painful. Too painful to tell her to Keep holding on when I myself was struggling at that. I tried real hard to fight back the tears from rolling down my cheeks, and eventually I managed to finish the song. When it was over, I realized why my siblings were so insistent that we do it - it was a 'now or never' thing. And besides, she needed to hear those lyrics as much as we needed to say what we wanted her to know before it was too late.

It was also a little something for her to remember us by.

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As darkness was traded in for light, the dark skies slowly welcomed the warmness of the morning sun. The day started pretty early for us. Upon arriving at Nanny's residence, Dad loaded up the 4×4 and their boxes were strapped onto the roof of the vehicle. We made our way to KLIA to send her off. After checking in their boxes and doing the necessary, all that was left to do was wait until it was time to board the flight. Pictures were taken of our every move and over steaming cups of cappuccino, we probably had our last face-to-face conversation.   


Shortly afterwards, it was time for them to board the plane. Hugs were exchanged, well-wishes were said and tears were shed. Whether it was the years spent with Kak Manisah or the weeks spent with her daughter, we have become so attached, to the extent where the both of them have become members of our family. Mainly, Kak Manisah. And how do you say "goodbye" to someone you have become so attached to? Sigh. 


All I know for sure is that I'll never find a maid as caring, loving and one-of-a-kind as her - she's irreplaceable. Wherever she is and however her condition, all I pray is that for God to wrap her in His arms and comfort her. Because if there is one thing she needs right now, it is none other than the Lord Almighty.