It's 4.37am. The doorbell rang. I awoke with half of my soul left apart in the dreamland. I heard the sound of a big rain outside and I was trying to gather my consciousness. I'm in the middle of my childhood room. With my husband.
Urgh, something bad must be happened.
My father used to take a morning bath at 3am. Uncommon to many people, but not here. His schedule will started by pick up his previously night chosen sarong and shirt, put them in reachable area (sofa in family room, chair, etc), have a night praying, then take a bath, dress up and go to masjid for praying Shubuh with the neighbors.
A month ago, my mom got an appendectomy. It's her 4th big surgery in her life. Surprisingly, while the surgeon did the procedure, several fat strings found and they decide to remove it too. It affects to her recovery, she haven't got the "normal" stamina as she has before.
I am so lucky, my parent has many people who loved them around. When I should left them outta town after the surgery, I went to Jogja with million of "how-if" questions in my head. I even cursed me for having a selfish thought for moved into another country, whether recklessly judge that I could live happily being not (too) worried about my parents (health or another). I left helpless and the last thing I could remember is the Owner of these lifes. I can't help to try repeat as many time as I can the hadits lines below. I tried to assure myself that He loves my mother as I am, cares about my father as I am.
The Prophet, salla allahu alayhi wa sallam , said:
Almighty Allah says, ‘I am as My servant thinks I am,
and I am with him when he remembers Me.
If he remembers Me to himself,
I remember him to Myself;
and if he remembers Me in a gathering,
I remember him in a gathering better than it.
If he draws near to Me a hand’s span,
I draw near to him an arm’s length;
if he draws near to Me an arm’s length,
I draw near to him a fathom’s length;
and if he comes to Me walking,
I go to him with haste.’”
(Al-Bukhari, Muslim, At-Tirmidhi and Ibn Majah)
Today, at 4.37am, when the doorbell rang, when it's a hard-pouring rain, I had Tante Sis in front of my parents' door. Tante Sis lived across the home. She asked me to lend her the umbrella, so she could bring it too and gave it to my father while she pick her husband up in the masjid.
Okay, let's me repeat: I slept very well, and I have another people care enough if my father stuck in a place because of the cloudburst.
I am sure very lucky, witnessed the care and loving neighbors here. I am the lucky bastard, who have this chance to see, how He loves my father as I am.
What could I expect more?
I love you, mon Dieu.