The Sign of Victory

I live in the non-Moslem neighborhood. But thanks to the TOA in the mosque and the wind that seriously blows the sound to my neighborhood, I can hear Takbiran.

Loud and clear.

It’s the sign that we have finally completed our ordeal
It’s the sign of victory
It makes me sad, though.

Every year, for five years now, when I lay on my bed looking up at the ceiling, with the Takbiran as the back sound, I cry.

I remember my father.

They said that the spirit would come home during ramadhan, and would return to .. (grave?) when Takbiran starts.
So I kinda believe that my father has been here, in our house, watching us in silent.

I guess I could feel his presence.
Could feel his disapproved look over my coming home late at night after series of breaking the fast events with friends.
Could feel his attentive look when I talked to mother about boring work, confusing guys, annoying colleagues…
So tonight, guess I could feel his gone!

I can feel his gone, with his eyes red with tears, knowing that his children did not send him enough pray
I remember all the nights I went to bed without even pray Rabbighfirlii Warhamnii..
and even when I did pray, I did it with my eyes lid heavily.. not sure whether I finish the pray..

So tonight, for five times now,
with Takbiran as the backsound,
I shed the tears on the pillow
Regret that I, once again, have failed him…
Regret for not using Ramadhan to give him small favor
Regret for not be able to make him proud

I’m hoping that I will have the chance to make it up next years

Papa, hold my heart, count its beat
That is how much I miss you..