Cyclist

A friend of my friend died inside a cliff, tragically.

For some of you, cycling might be another kind of fun activity to release stress. But for a friend of my friend, let’s call him AZ, cycling was not just another funny action of pedalling a bike’s wire, it’s an ambition. It’s a live goal.

His dream was to travel all around the world just by cycling. How did you think? Was it possible? In my point of view, it was quite impossible.

But as for a cyclist, he could manage to make it happen. Because all he needed is a pair of strong legs, padded shorts and cycling jerseys, water bottle and bottle cage, sport shoes, helmet, and obviously a bicycle. His dream sounded impossible for me at first, but slowly he tried to make it happen. At first country A then B then C and so on.

Till one day he reached Nepal, a plateau. Before he reached this country, his family has warned him to be careful. It’s a challenging route, the longest downhill route on earth. Fate was fate. Destiny was destiny. We could never predict.

His family suddenly lost contact with him, didn’t get any message reply from him. The next day, a corpse was found at the end of the cliff near his cycling area.

I’m feeling bad for his death. At another point, I’m glad that once in my life I have that kind of friend. He might have left this world, but his dream stays, at least in my mind, waiting for the next cyclist to make it come true.

Smiler

I had that kind of roommate who made people laugh till their jaw getting stiff, but then every night go to bed crying.

She is lovely, having beautiful eyes yet funny unique voice. She is overweight as well. Let’s call her GB, a 30-year-old woman.

Once I asked her, “Hey, friend, what’s your most favorite thing to do in this world?”

While everyone in the room was in silence because of thinking, she spontaneously answer me, “Eating,” with full of smile in her face.

I asked her why, then she told me because only when she is eating she could forget about everything. I din’t really buy this word until I share the same bed and night with her.

We shared the same tears but not the same pain.

When we were about to sleep, I could notice that she was crying. That’s how everything started. I just knew that she is a widow. During her 3 years of marriage, she has aborted 3 babies. By the way this is allowed in her country. It means one baby every year. Then it simply means she got pregnant every year and every time she got pregnant she aborted their babies. Nope, it supposed to be her babies.

“If I could turn back time, I won’t marry this man. I was so specious and stubborn. No one agreed on my choice. My parents to my best friend, they didn’t allow me to marry this man. My ex-husband was previously a divorcee before we get married. May be that was the reason why my people didn’t allow me to marry him.

But because I was persistent, they got no choice except to let me do what I wanted, marry him. That’s how everything started. He was a lazy man, unwilling to work. It was my mistake to spoil him too.

I earned money. Let him stay at home. Prepared his clothes. Cooked him food. Served him all the best I could do. Did all the things the best wife could do. At that time I was a working wife as well. There was also a day I was pregnant and I still cooked him food while all the things he could do was only sitting and playing.

I remember in a cold winter day, I was pregnant and I cooked him food. Getting off from my work, walked a long way to cook then delivered him the meal. I was late. I felt like almost dying. The first thing came out from his lip wasn’t asking how I was doing, he was mad at me being late.

I was full of anger and disappointment, speechless as well.

At that time, I just remembered why all the people around me didn’t allow me to marry him. May be because they already knew this would happen. I regretted I didn’t listen to them and just follow my personal instinct.

Not long after saying this, GY cried. I could’t do anything. She regretted everything.

That’s how she went to bed crying everyday. She regretted her life and couldn’t turn back time. The only thing she could do to forget her regret was eating, only eating. But she felt sad for being fat too.

Grieving Student

I dedicate this post special to my junior and high school teacher, FR who just passed away on 11 November 2019, in his thirteenth day after he got baptism, a cancer fighter as well.

It was around 5 pm when I opened a group-chat with my high school friends. Not like usual, the group was so active, full of messages. I scrolled it up and read such unexpected news.

“Dear friends, our teacher, FR passed away at 2 pm today. Let’s pray he will rest in peace.”

I can not really explain how I feel, but I know this is a sad feeling. It feels like I’m not losing only a teacher, I’m losing a friend, an idol, an advisor.

I might have graduated from high school, even university and had spent years without talking to him. But knowing he was still alive just make me feel okay. And reading the news that one of my best teachers passed away made me broke into pieces.

Some months ago this year, I got a shared link from Kitabisa.com , a fundraising platform. Reading the name, I was surprised because I read that my teacher’s name is in the need of help. Soon I clicked it and my curiosity was confirmed once I look at the picture.

It was his picture. It was his body. It was his face.

And I was kind of speechless. I remembered clearly in my mind how he taught me and my friends years back then around 10 years ago. He was standing in front of the class, holding a black marker on his right hand, mathematics or physics or chemistry book on the other hand. Sometimes joking while teaching, and when we students laughed and opened our mouth, that’s the moment he threw us pills of lessons and wisdom.

He was a smart teacher. No. He is a smart teacher.

If it was not because of his help, I’m not sure whether I could love math, physics, and or chemistry. He could simplify the questions and guide me to do it in an easy, fast, correct way.

He was tall and healthy. His hair will be arranged neatly, sometimes with hair oil sometimes without. But one thing that I’m sure is that he would always keep his typical curly little beard under his small chin. It kept hanging. Even if he cut it off, he would keep a little part of it hanging.

Now that he has been up there with Father in Heaven, I wanted to memorize him in a happy way.

First, he will always be my teacher. Second, it’s funny how he pulled his beard and touched his belly while teaching. This will always be his thing.

Although he is not living anymore, my memory about him will always exist.

It will always be there.