I went to East Java my husband and my baby for a vacation to East Java, two months ago, which I still reluctant to write an entry about it. But today, I just want to share a little part of the trip we visited the cemetery where my beloved father was buried. It's a first-time visit for both my husband and baby, and the first time for me too, after 16 years we all moved for good to Jakarta.
I still regret that I couldn't find his grave that day, yes he was buried there, but all I can recall from my 13-years old girl's memory is there were only two graves at that time. As the time passes by, now the cemetery is starting to run out of its space. I've checked each and every of the graves but I still can't find any headstone with my father's name on it. I called my younger brother who lives 7500 miles away to ask which side our father's grave located, but he said that the name on headstone might have been vanished gone with the time, so it would be difficult for me to find. Yeah maybe he's right because I saw some headstones with no names. I could have contacted the caretaker, but I didn't do it because we're already on a tight schedule and need to drive again to the next city, so the least thing I could do there were just sending my pray and asking that He would have His mercy on my father.
we go on with life without him for seventeen years already. And things are totally different now. The three of us, his children, live in different countries to pursue our own happiness. But looking back to those years we had with him, I couldn't thank Allah enough that He gave us a little precious time to spend our joyful childhood together with a figure that was so wise, bold, yet humorous and adventurous. I loved how he was so keen to bring us in a road trip every weekend or school holiday to a new city or place. Above all that he ever gave me, I cherished that despite the toys, dresses, and shoes, I love the road trips the most that I wouldn't trade for anything. Something that I think I would like to pass to my kid(s) too.