Accompanying First Love To KUA
Part 04's

Days passed, from the moon crawled to the moon. Alternate. 

I haven't felt like I've been in Keumala village for six months. 

As the morning breeze greeted, the dew had not yet gone, it was still recognizable. Blur the window glass.

Chickens were boisterous fighting for food, grated corn that Pakcik gave. 

The birds chirped as the people sang the national anthem.

I think the atmosphere of nature like this is indeed happiness for Nestapa. However, beyond estimates, from the top of the surau a notice echoed.

"Innalillahi wa-inna ilaihi raaji'uun, has returned to Rahmatullah one of our brothers, namely, Zainul Arifin. So therefore, we both go to the funeral home."

I don't know why my heart was beating when I heard the notification. But I don't know who that is.

"Abang, Khabab's father is dead!" exclaimed Mother was scattered from the kitchen. 

Mr Mas Khabab?

Aye, right? Nature is opposite. It does not bring peace to all hearts.

O Allah, grant him fortitude.

I haven't seen Mas Khabab in three days. The princess said her father was sick.

Pakcik and Mommy rushed to Mas Khabab's house. I've taken the head cover wanting to follow them. However, they forbid. 

'Mas, bpk mas Khabab died.' I sent a message to Mas Fattah.

Shortly thereafter, Mas Fattah called.

"Innalillahi wa-inna ilaihi raji'un." Saying Mas Fattah is not a greeting anymore.

I asked him if he was going home or not.

"But here is busy, let alone no one to help. Usually there is the boss's son, but now he's playing his show again" said Mas Fattah.

"I didn't just show your boss's son, did I go home? that's it."

"God willing, take care of it first."

Last week, me and Putri went to Mas Khabab's house to ask for potions for Pakcik who was stung by bees. Meet his father. He sat down to talk, while he was looking for leaves that would be used as medicine behind the house.

The shadow is still the look on the face of the old man who was telling a story.

Nothing is eternal, everything will go when the time comes.

***

Overcast hanging. I was stunned to imagine the appearance of two souls, long without each other. Old people. 

The death of Mr. Mas Khabab reminds me of my father and mother who died three years ago. To be missed for what is gone is pain. Even though the heart is singing to meet, it can never be caught.

Doors are regularly knocked. 

Standing up a man with a gaze of shade, I don't think it's really shady, there's an arid heart from loss.

He came to ask for the bay leaf.

I leave it to Mas Khabab two dried bay leaves. He also stepped home. This time I saw no smile on his lips.

There were some goats there eating grass. Then something strange happened, a scream was heard. The animals ran on the ridge. My feelings are starting to get bad. Slowly step up, to see what is going on up ahead.

A man stood facing the river, in his hand was a stone as big as a quail egg. Sometimes he threw it in the river, and that's when he shouted. I think that's one way to let go of the wrath that's on his mind. Too bad. 

What I say is take the coconut and I tell Pakcik not know where. Ah, the time? Obviously the coconut was near the man. However, on the one hand I did not want to disturb his calm.

"Mbak Zira? Why is it here?"

I was so worried for so long that I didn't realize that he had seen me.

"You take the coconut, Mas," I said slowly.

I saw his cold look, he said nothing more. I approached to grab a coconut, then hurried back.

"Sir Zira" he called slowly.

"Yes?" His call kept me locked in steps.

"How do you face the test of life?"

Now positions are turned back to each other. 

"To work alone with the Rabbi, without looking left-right, because turning toward others does not get an answer, but instead makes things worse. Because every test of life has a different problem."

Silent.

I also want to go home. I don't know what's on his mind about the answer I gave him.

The wind blew making the hood I was wearing wave. I don't know why, there is a different beat when answering the question. I took a breath twice in the middle of the sentence.

Mas Khabab, is this about loss? If so, please let go and appreciate what is.

Single-minded? It is not as easy as saying. However, over time the heart will accept the reality. If you want to run you can't, because it's real. 

The hand line cannot be erased. Our steps are only to take wisdom over every event. Subject to every act of God. He knows a strong heart will not complain, nor will it moan even though it hurts. 

Smile of heart, despaired tirelessly in the court of do'a

Until he brought harsa

For a heart that is gone

No more whimpering screaming

Accept every act of your destiny

In the arch please

The dark smoke that ambushed

We tell the story of the listener

God is a witness

He is Mahamencintai

Seriate