Wound

Although it’s been more than 26 years…mama still shed a tear when we talked about him. She stills remember all the sequence of events on the morning he died. It was Ramadhan and I was just a little kid knowing very little about everything. Life was simple. Life was easy. Wake up, go to school, back home, eat, play, watch TV, sleep, repeat.

Today, I asked mama about the small bulge on the side of his stomach. All this while, I still remember when I asked him about it. He said it was bullet wound, and the bullet remains still lodged inside it. That’s it why there is a bulge. It makes sense then. He had the right background and job profile. And I believe him.

But today, mama said it was actually risa. And a few in our family does have it on their different parts of the body.

Ain’t it funny. I don’t think I have any risa on any part of my body…..but I sure do have wound deep inside me. A wound of not having him around to guide us, love us and see all of us growing up and be where we are today. Indeed I do miss him. Miss him in a special kind of way.

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