Sometimes, the journey to finding happiness can feel like a quiet, winding path that stretches on without a clear destination. I often find myself reflecting on this, wondering if I’m truly enjoying the life I’m living. In the hustle and bustle of today’s world, where everyone seems to be racing towards their dreams, it’s easy to feel left behind. 

Right now, my life is simple. I avoid social media, don’t share updates about my day-to-day, and live in a slower pace compared to many of my university friends. It’s not that I don’t want to be part of their achievements, or that I don't feel proud of them. In fact, seeing my friends secure their dream jobs, buy their dream cars, or start their own families fills me with joy for them. But there’s a voice inside that sometimes whispers, “What about you?”

I know, in theory, that life isn’t a race. We all live on our own timeline, and comparing ourselves to others is rarely helpful. But, as much as I understand this in my mind, it doesn’t always settle my heart. The truth is, I sometimes feel jealous—not in a bitter way, but in a longing, almost wistful sense. I see the way my friends are stepping confidently into their futures, and I wonder when I’ll get that same sense of fulfillment. 

Currently, I’m helping my sister run her small café. After my brother-in-law passed away, I, along with my other family members, stepped in to assist Kaklong with her business. It's a quiet, meaningful job, and I enjoy it in so many ways. Helping her, seeing the café grow, and being there for my family has brought me a sense of purpose I didn’t expect. But even then, I occasionally ask myself: “Until when? When will I be able to pursue my own dreams, or step into a life that feels like my own?”

I think it's this uncertainty that sometimes weighs on me. I want to have a clearer vision of my future, just like the friends I see on social media or hear about at reunions. But sometimes, I feel lost, unsure of where to begin or what step to take next. 

Does this mean I’m not enjoying my life? Does it mean I’m unhappy?

Not necessarily. I can still find joy in the quiet moments, in the small victories of each day. Helping Kaklong, spending time with family, enjoying the simple things—there’s a lot of happiness in those small moments. But at the same time, I can’t deny that there’s a yearning for something more, something personal to me. I think it’s okay to have dreams, even if they seem far away or unclear. 

Maybe part of my struggle comes from wanting to have it all figured out, but life rarely works like that. Maybe I’m afraid that if I take my eyes off what others are doing, I’ll fall behind. But I’m slowly learning that it’s okay not to have it all planned. The future doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s. My dreams are still taking shape, and that’s okay.

The question I keep asking myself—“am I enjoying my life?”—isn’t one with an easy answer. There are days when I feel content, and others when I wonder if I should be doing more. But I’ve come to realize that enjoying life doesn’t always mean chasing big milestones or having all the answers. Sometimes, it’s just about being present and finding peace in the moment, even when the future feels uncertain.

For now, I’ll continue helping Kaklong, enjoy the moments of peace that come with a slow, intentional life, and trust that my path will reveal itself when the time is right. And maybe, just maybe, that is what enjoyment really looks like—embracing the journey, even when it doesn’t look like everyone else’s.

Dear Future Me,

Today marks another year of life—a milestone that prompts me to pause and reflect. As I write this letter, I’m filled with a mix of hope, curiosity, and a touch of nostalgia. I want to take a moment not only to wish ourself a happy birthday but also to ask you a question that weighs heavily on my heart: Am I making you proud?

Birthdays have always been a time for reflection, a moment to take stock of where I am versus where I hoped to be. I remember the excitement of blowing out candles and making wishes, each one filled with dreams of what the future could hold. Now, as I sit here, I want to know if those wishes have materialized into reality.

Have you pursued your passions with the same intensity as I do now? Did you take that leap of faith to follow your dreams? I hope you’ve nurtured your creativity, whether through writing, art, or any form of self-expression that ignites your spirit. If you’ve allowed those passions to flourish, I hope it brings you joy every single day. 

I often think about the lessons I’ve learned so far. Have you continued to embrace challenges as opportunities for growth? I hope you’ve approached setbacks with resilience, learning from them rather than being defined by them. 

Have you cultivated a mindset of lifelong learning? I hope you’ve read books that inspire you, taken courses that challenge you, and sought knowledge from those around you. The pursuit of wisdom is a journey, and I hope you’re still walking that path with curiosity and enthusiasm.

As I reflect on this birthday, I want to consider the relationships in your life. Have you surrounded yourself with people who lift you up, challenge you, and celebrate your successes? I hope you’ve prioritized genuine connections, nurturing friendships that bring you joy and support. 

Have you made an effort to reach out to those who matter? Life can get busy, and it’s easy to let important relationships fade. I hope you’ve taken the time to maintain those bonds, creating memories that enrich your life.

Perhaps the most significant question I have for you is about authenticity. Have you stayed true to yourself? I hope you’ve learned to embrace your uniqueness and have let go of the fear of judgment. It’s crucial to live in alignment with your values and beliefs. Are you proud of the choices you’ve made and the person you’ve become? 

I hope you’ve cultivated self-love and acceptance, recognizing that you are enough just as you are. Celebrate your achievements, both big and small, and allow yourself to feel deserving of happiness and fulfillment.

As I celebrate this birthday, I want to remind you of the importance of purpose. Have you found what drives you? I hope you’ve pursued work that feels meaningful, contributing to something larger than yourself. Whether it’s through your career, volunteer work, or simply being a good friend or good daughter and sister, or even a good aunt to your nieces and nephews. I hope you’ve embraced the idea of making a positive impact in the world.

As you read this, I hope you’re excited about the future. There’s so much left to experience, learn, and explore. I encourage you to continue dreaming and set new goals, challenge yourself, and embrace new adventures. Life is a journey, and every year brings opportunities for growth and discovery.

So on this special day, I wish you a happy birthday, future me. May this year be filled with love, laughter, and meaningful experiences. Remember to celebrate your journey and acknowledge how far you’ve come. 

As I close this letter, I hope you can look back with pride, knowing that you’ve stayed true to yourself and embraced life fully. I can’t wait to see the person you’ve become.

With all my love and hope,
Your Past Self.

The end of July 2024 was a time of profound sorrow and loss for me and my family. It was during this period that I lost my one and only beloved brother-in-law. His passing was not sudden but rather the culmination of a series of distressing events that unfolded over two weeks, culminating in a tragic end that left us grappling with grief and unanswered questions.

The ordeal began when my sister and her three children developed fevers. It was a troubling sign, but abang Sham seemed unaffected initially. A week later, however, he too began to show symptoms. His fever was accompanied by a severe headache, which prompted my sister to seek urgent help. On the morning of Saturday, July 28, she called me, distressed and desperate for assistance in taking her husband to the hospital.

We arrived at Hospital Kulim, where abang Sham was placed in the yellow zone, indicating a moderate level of severity. The hospital's service was frustratingly slow. The admission process took longer than expected, and due to visitor restrictions, I was unable to see him. I waited anxiously as the doctor conducted blood tests, the results of which were delayed, adding to my growing unease. When the results finally came in, they revealed a dangerously low hemoglobin level of only 5.

29 July, abang Sham was finally admitted to Ward 4. During this time, the medical staff attempted to address his critical condition. The plan was to administer a blood transfusion, but this effort quickly faltered. Shortly after the transfusion began, his condition deteriorated significantly. He complained of feeling extremely cold and started shivering uncontrollably, a sign that the blood was not compatible with his body. The doctor had to cancel the transfusion, but the damage was done.

Throughout the day, the care abang Sham received seemed inadequate. The doctor primarily monitored his condition and administered basic medication, such as Panadol, which was insufficient given the gravity of his situation. His oxygen levels dropped dramatically, making it increasingly difficult for him to breathe. An oxygen tube was installed to help him, but this measure was too little, too late.

On Tuesday, July 30, my sister was torn between her duties and her husband’s need for her presence. He repeatedly asked her to stay, clinging to her hand and requesting kisses on her cheek. It was a heartrending scene that demonstrated the depth of his distress and his reliance on her comfort. My sister, overwhelmed by the situation, was forced to leave briefly to tend to their child, Ayra, who was crying for her. Despite her promise to return early the next morning, the night brought devastating news.

At 3 am on Wednesday, July 31, abang Sham’s condition took a turn for the worse. My sister received a call from the hospital informing her that he was in critical condition. The doctors did all they could, performing CPR for 20 minutes, but despite their efforts, there was no pulse. Abang Sham passed away at 4:46 am, a heartbreaking end to a battle that had started with what seemed like a simple fever.

In the wake of his death, I was overwhelmed by a mix of grief and frustration. The slow response from the medical staff, particularly regarding the blood transfusion, and the delays in transferring him to a more capable facility, contributed to a sense of helplessness and anger. It is deeply troubling to think that such a dire outcome could result from what began as a seemingly minor illness compounded by a lack of timely and effective medical intervention.

The loss of my brother-in-law has left an irreplaceable void in our lives. His passing has been a stark reminder of the fragility of life and the critical importance of timely and efficient medical care. As we come to terms with his absence, we are left to grapple with the painful reality that his death might have been preventable, had the response been more immediate and effective. This tragedy is a profound loss that will forever impact our family, and the unanswered questions about the adequacy of his care only add to our enduring sorrow.

On the day of the funeral, the process was marked by an unexpected sense of calm and reverence. The jenazah of my brother-in-law' was prepared and buried after solat zohor. Throughout the morning and into the afternoon, family and friends gathered to mengaji together for arwah abang. The atmosphere in the living room was somber but respectful, and I found myself repeatedly reciting Surah Yassin for abang Sham. The praise for abang Sham’s character was abundant; visitors spoke highly of his kindness, generosity, and the charitable acts he performed throughout his life.

A heavy rain fell that morning, causing concern about the state of the grave. However, when the time came to move the jenazah, the grave was remarkably dry, with no signs of waterlogging. All arrangements for the funeral went smoothly, and an anonymous benefactor covered the expenses for managing the remains. The first night of the kenduri arwah saw an outpouring of support from the community, reflecting the profound impact my abang ipar had on those around him.

In the days leading up to his hospitalization, my brother-in-law had shared unsettling dreams with my sister. He described sitting in another world filled with people in white jubah and seeing an old man in a white jubah calling abang to follow him. These dreams, which he shared with us, seemed to hint at an impending departure, though we were reluctant to fully grasp their significance. It is now clear that there were signs of his passing that we did not fully understand at the time.

The loss of my brother-in-law is a profound tragedy that has left an indelible mark on my family’s heart. His passing serves as a somber reminder of life’s fragility and the importance of timely and effective medical care. As we remember him and the legacy of kindness he left behind, we are left to reflect on the profound impact he had on all who knew him. 

One of pinjaman Allah yang tersangat sekejap. Allah pinjamkan abang untuk kakak & our family only for 12 years. Semoga Mohd Hisham bin Johari ditempatkan dalam kalangan orang beriman, semoga diampunkan segala dosa arwah, semoga Allah terima segala amalan arwah dan mengangkat darjatnya di sisi Allah. Semoga pemergian abang menjadi kerehatan sebenar dari urusan dunia, di luaskan kubur, diterangkan kubur, dimudahkan menjawab semua soalan di alam kubur, dilindungi dari azab dan seksa kubur dan semoga syurga tempat abang.

My Dearest Ayah,

As the years pass by, the ache in my heart for your presence only grows stronger. July 24, 2006, feels like a lifetime ago, yet the memories of you remain vivid in my mind, like treasures I hold onto dearly. I was just a little girl of seven when you left this world, and now, at 25, I find myself longing for your guidance and warmth more than ever.

I miss the sound of your voice, Ayah. It's been so long since I heard you sing those beautiful P-Ramlee’s songs to me before I drifted off to sleep. Your voice was like a lullaby, soothing and comforting, wrapping me in a blanket of love and security. Now, I find solace in my headphones, listening to music that reminds me of you, but it's never quite the same.

The memories we shared at the playground after your long days of work are etched in my heart forever. Every time I visit that place, I'm flooded with nostalgia, playing back those precious moments like a cherished movie reel. How I wish I could recreate those memories with you once more, to feel your hand in mine as we laughed and played together.

Life without you has been a journey filled with ups and downs, struggles and triumphs. There are days when the weight of loneliness feels unbearable, when I yearn for your guidance and wisdom. But through it all, I carry your love within me, a beacon of light in the darkness.

Thank you, Ayah, for being the most incredible father a daughter could ever ask for. Though our time together was short, the impact you made on my life is immeasurable. I am proud to be your youngest daughter, and I would choose you as my father again and again, without hesitation.

I pray that God has granted you a place in paradise, where you can find eternal peace and joy. And until the day we are reunited, know that you are always in my thoughts and prayers. I miss you more than words can express, Ayah, and I will love you for all eternity.

رَّبِّ اغْفِرْلِي وَلِوَالِدَيَّ وَارْحَمْهُمَا كَمَا رَبَّيَانِي صَغِيراً

Assalamualaikum, hi everyone. Hope all is well. This week had been a rollercoaster of emotions for me. It felt like every little thing could set me off, and I found myself getting teary-eyed over the smallest of issues. One day, I woke up feeling like I had lost my appetite entirely. It was as if my body refused to cooperate with my desire to nourish it. Despite the lack of hunger pangs, I knew I needed to eat to keep myself going. So, I found solace in repetition, in the familiar comfort of a meal that never failed to soothe me: Nasi, telur mata and kicap manis!

"In the midst of life's storms, let comfort food be your anchor, guiding you through the roughest seas with its warmth and familiarity."

In a small kitchen, filled with the aroma of garlic and soy sauce, I found solace in my simple yet comforting meal: white rice topped with a perfectly fried egg. It was my go-to dish whenever life felt overwhelming, a beacon of warmth and familiarity in times of sadness. As I cracked the egg into the pan, the sound of the shell hitting the surface echoed through the room, a reassuring rhythm that grounded me. The garlic danced in the fragrant oil, releasing its savory essence into the air, mingling with the soy sauce to create a symphony of flavors that tantalized my senses.

With each scoop of rice onto my plate, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, as if the burdens of the day were being replaced with nourishing comfort. The golden yolk of the fried egg, still slightly runny, spilled over the rice like liquid sunshine, infusing every grain with richness and depth. As I took my first bite, I closed my eyes, allowing myself to be fully present in the moment, savoring each mouthful as if it were a hug from within. The familiar taste transported me to happier times, reminding me that even in the darkest of days, there was still joy to be found in the simplest of pleasures.

With each bite, I felt my spirits lift, my troubles melting away like snowflakes in the warmth of the sun. And as I finished my meal, a sense of contentment washed over me, filling my heart with hope and gratitude.

For me, white rice and fried egg with garlic and soy sauce wasn't just a meal—it was a lifeline, a source of comfort and strength that helped me navigate the rough seas of life with grace and resilience. And as I wiped the last traces of soy sauce from my plate, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, I would always find solace in the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal. 

As the week went on, my emotions began to settle, like the calm after a storm. And through it all, my steadfast meal remained a constant source of comfort, a reminder that even on the darkest of days, there is still warmth and nourishment to be found in the simplest of things.

Till then.

The above was written as part of an attempt to waste time,
Nadiera Hashim
4:20pm
Kedah, Malaysia.