There was a room packed full of people who had not seen each other in the past ten years or more, of unspoken understanding and affections they would not have felt if you didn't make it happen, attending an event they wouldn't have thought twice to attend if it were not for you. Thanks to you, there were countless rounds of sincere hugs, whispers of encouragement, exchanges of phone numbers and heartfelt promises to keep in touch for future lunches and dinners. You would have loved to meet my friends, too, especially the new ones. They're a crazy bunch, which is why I'm sure you'd love them. They're the type of friends who quietly offer their condolences, their shoulder to lean on anytime I need it, texting me at 12 am just to see how I'm doing but do not treat me like a social leper by embracing me into the usual round of laughter. They're the type of people who do not say "Jangan sedih yah" but "Oh fuck it, this is your time to mourn. Let it out, and don't be scared of crying," instead. Like I said - you'd love them.
You would also have loved to be there on Tuesday afternoon, November 4, 2014. Your place was crowded wall to wall, which proves just how big your heart was and how much you touched other people in your life. Not only families were there, but the ol' gang from Bumi Bintaro Permai where you used to rule that turf (you would have loved the term I'm using, too) were all there. Your best buddies who used to come to our house all the time and filled the living room with roaring laughter. They were all there last Tuesday; same form, same affections, same baritone voices - the only thing missing was the laughter.
I have tons of memories of you but the best one was perhaps the fact that we're both crazily obsessed with desserts. We were. Anything that looks suspicious or looks like it uses some illegal food (or other) coloring with shaved ice, we'll have two, and do you think the waiter can add more syrup on it? It's freezing cold outside with pouring rain; I think some ice creams wouldn't hurt either. People (read: mom and sis) used to throw us crazy looks or scold me for listening to you when I end up in bed due to sore throat and cough; but there was no ounce of regret in me and I thought that was the best meal I ever had.
The ultimate gift you gave me, however, was a pencil and a blank sheet of paper. It was the most awesome mechanic pencil I've ever seen - silver and black, smooth surface and so elegant. I could not wait to use it.
And so I started to write.
The blank sheet became full of words, ideas, nonsense tales that I proudly showed to you. As the Pak RW at that time in our community, you suggested me to contribute one of my stories to the community newspaper (An early nepotism wouldn't hurt anyone, you would say!) So I started writing absurd children's tale (when I was still one of them myself) and came home from school with a grin when I saw my story being published. The blank sheet of paper you once gave me turned into a bundle of blank sheets. And I would fill them with my handwriting, page by page, with stories nobody will ever get to read. I brought the pencil and papers everywhere I went, including to our holidays and trips.
I'm 27 now, Dad, and I still go crazy over unhealthy desserts which was the foundation of my passion for baking. And most obviously, I still write. I have fallen in love with words and that was what defined my choice of career and how I live my life right now. You may not get to see what I do everyday although I wished I could show you where I work now. You would be a great partner to roam around the city with and eating all the hawker foods with. You would make up stories or mime people just to make me laugh, just like what you did when I was little. The imagination that fills my blank sheets today (be it in a piece of paper or a Microsoft Word) - that was all thanks to you.
There are so, so many things I wish you'd be here to witness in my future. So many chapters I want to reveal to you, so many plots I need your advice on. But if what people have been saying this past week is right; if it's true that you'll still be with me every passing second; to see me, to hear me, to let me know if I make the right judgment in life - then I'm sure you won't feel left out.
I just hope there's a decent dessert shop up there.
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In memory of my father, who will always be the #1 man in my life. See you on the other side, Dad.
