[caption id="attachment_9472" align="alignnone" width="300"] The last photo, before undergoing kidney surgery, which led my mother to meet her Creator[/caption] The noble woman in that photo is my Mother. She may be gone, but the flame of her spirit is not buried with her body. Insha'Allah, it will always glow in the hearts of all of us she left behind.
I deliberately chose to highlight her in this event, with one hope: that her journey becomes an inspiration for everyone. 0 years old My mother was born around 1956 - 1957; no one remembers her exact birth year, let alone the date. My grandmother was just a village woman unfamiliar with record-keeping, and my grandfather had passed away 6 months before my mother was born.
Well... my mother was indeed an orphan since she was in the womb. That is also what my grandmother and mother believed to be the cause of her frail body. The village where my mother and I were born is located in Sumenep Regency, Madura. It's a small village situated on the edge of the main road, about 50 meters from the entrance gate to the city area (now).
Its residents generally depended on farming for their livelihood (at the time my mother was born). 12 years old My mother's childhood was very short, as short as her schooling, which only lasted until the 5th grade of SR (Sekolah Rakyat_equivalent to elementary school). She only enjoyed playing for 12 years, because at that age, she already held the title of a wife.
The wife of a man she didn't know at all, my father. It wasn't just her orphan status that led my mother to marry as a child; it was also the common custom and culture of the Madurese people. The prevailing myth at the time, and even now in some areas, was that it was forbidden to refuse a man's proposal, as it would cause the woman who refused to become an old maid due to difficulty finding a match.
Becoming a wife, a title my mother didn't even understand the meaning of, brought many amusing stories. In the first years of their marriage, it was my father who cooked and cleaned the house. My mother was sometimes still busy playing with her peers, most of whom were also already married. Fortunately, my father was very patient. Gradually, my mother realized her role and responsibilities as a wife.
20 years old By the age of 20, my mother was remarkably active in various activities in my village. She became the driving force and pioneer for the women in my village to learn various skills. From cooking lessons to makeup artistry and P4 simulations, she participated in everything with great enthusiasm. Her spirit overcame the many illnesses that often afflicted her without warning.
Umbilical Hernia and Typhoid Fever, were two among a myriad of diseases that caused my mother to lose consciousness for days. At that time, there was no medical treatment to cure her. Armed with herbal medicines, prayers from the kyai, her burning will to live, and certainly the grace of the Divine; my mother escaped death. 24 years old This was the age when my mother gave birth to me.
Various efforts were made to conceive quickly. She had become desperate and thought she was infertile, considering her peers already had one or two children. My birth was the culmination of my mother and father's 11-year wait—an answer to their tireless prayers. Did I then become a spoiled child? No! I was taught to be independent and live frugally.
Having a child did not dampen my mother's enthusiasm for learning. The peak was when she was asked to represent the village in a cooking competition at the sub-district level. My mother, with her team, made a cassava-based tart. Alhamdulillah, my mother won first place. Her work was considered to represent a blend of the lower and upper classes, the common people and officials.
Her skills did not make my mother arrogant. She diligently taught the women in my village to make various cakes. Every fasting month, our house was always bustling with people learning and making cakes together. My mother also gladly lent out her various cooking tools. As a result, today, there isn't a woman in my village who cannot bake. If before they could only drool watching various cakes on television or on the shelves of city bakeries, now they can make them themselves as easily as turning a hand.
35 years old I was 11 years old, the same age my mother was when my father proposed to her. As was customary in my village, proposals had already started coming in. Myths and customs prompted my extended family to agree to the proposals I received. However, my mother firmly refused. She was willing to disagree, even to the point of quarreling with my extended family, rather than see the glowing spark of ambition in my eyes fade.
Her extraordinary passion for learning and strong determination to succeed had indeed passed into my blood. I had won countless competitions since elementary school. That also made my mother confident that I would be more successful if I continued my education instead of marrying young, as happened to all my friends. 40 years old My mother's physical health began to deteriorate.
Various illnesses continued to strike one after another. As I recall, besides the two diseases she suffered from as a child, my mother also had chronic gastritis, heart problems, stomach infection, urinary tract infection, myoma, tonsillitis, metabolic diseases (gout, cholesterol), and kidney stones. Countless efforts were made to find a cure. From chemical medicines costing tens of thousands to millions of rupiah; herbal concoctions to cobra bile; medicines tasting sweet to bitter-sour; she endured it all without despair.
Truly, if I could, I would have taken her pain. Once again, my mother proved that illness did not diminish her hope. When our family's economy declined, my mother did not remain idle; she stood ready to help my father, even though illnesses were constantly lurking, threatening to bring her death. My mother decided to learn how to make meatballs and open a meatball stall at home.
Of course, there was much scorn from family and neighbors, considering our family was quite well-off. My father's income from running a grocery store and farming was more than enough to support all of us. However, the burden of my university tuition and living expenses abroad, as well as the growing school fees for my three younger siblings, made the usually sufficient income no longer enough.
44 years old This was the peak of my mother's happiness. I graduated from university, walking onto the graduation stage with the title of best graduate from the Faculty of Psychology. I saw her tears flowing as she looked at me with pride. My bachelor's degree seemed to be proof that her decision not to marry me off at a young age was not wrong; that her audacity to sell land to fund my university education was not a mistake.
I repaid her with the best achievements throughout my schooling. 50 years old As if the string of illnesses she suffered and the two surgeries she underwent (tonsillitis and myoma) weren't enough, my mother had an accident and suffered a concussion. She was in a coma for 2 days, but thanks to Allah, she was still given the chance to be with me when I gave birth to my first child.
53 years old This is the end of my mother's journey in this world. The pain from the kidney disease she suffered could no longer be endured. The path of surgery she took became the gateway for her return to the Owner of Life. One memory I will never forget in my life: in a semi-conscious state, she hugged me very tightly before death claimed her, as if signaling that this was our last embrace and farewell.
Farewell, my mother. To me, you are more inspiring than Kartini and even more formidable than Cut Nyak Dien. Your light may have extinguished, but its glow is eternal in my heart and the hearts of the villagers. You gave so much, and I never had the chance to repay it in this world. May my prayers guide your path to His heaven.