After the Rain, A Thousand Tomorrows

Dear Sayang, I found a hobby. Writing. It started with letters to you—words spilling onto paper when I didn’t know where else to put the weight of missing you. At first, they were just echoes of my grief, whispers of love left unanswered. But somewhere in between, they became something more. Now, my words flow in stories, in characters, in moments that remind me of us. It feels strange, yet comforting, how I pour my love for you into every sentence, every scene. Like a quiet conversation we never stopped having. I still love you as deeply as ever. That hasn’t changed. Maybe it never will. But writing helps me carry it differently now—not just as loss, but as something living, something that stays. You are in every word. And in every word, I find a little more of myself again. Always, Me

Ok let's make a checklist shall we Fashionably late? ✔️   Rainy drama? ✔️   GPS leading me into the unknown? ✔️   Struggling with chopsticks like a toddler? Absolutely . Since it was a Japanese restaurant, I made sure to kindly request no meat, beef, or alcohol in my food—my host, being the kind friend he is, did his best to accommodate. But here’s the thing: when you’re late and the food is already there, you really can’t be picky.   So, there I was, face to face with a beautifully plated fish—me, the person who loves Japanese food… but not the fishy part. My Japanese friend noticed my struggle (because, let’s be real, my chopstick skills were giving Mona Lisa energy), and before I could say anything, she deboned it for me . At that point, refusing  was not an option .   I took a deep breath… and survived.   The chawanmushi? A delight. The miso soup? Comforting. The kimchi? Surprisingly good. The fish? …Well, I lived to...

So, I made mac & cheese today. That’s an achievement, right? Because honestly, I almost just stared at the wall and called it a meal.   Lately, I’ve been feeling... meh. Maybe because my iddah is almost over, or maybe because Ramadhan is coming, and for the first time, I won’t have him here with me. It’s like my brain is buffering, trying to process everything. And in the middle of all that, I realized my daily steps went from 6,000 to a glorious 2,000. At this rate, even my watch is probably judging me.   But hey, small steps count! So I’m trying to get back on track—walking more, maybe cycling again. And because I like to keep life interesting, I’m now debating: **Martial arts or Pilates?** Do I want to be zen and flexible or learn how to throw a solid punch? Decisions, decisions.   One step (or kick) at a time, I guess.  

Akhir akhir ni petang kerap hujan Hampir Ramadhan, mungkin disusun untuk langit yang cerah Jumaat ini. Mahu lihat anak bulan Ramadhan Hujan... Hujan tak pernah sekadar hujan bila dengan dia. Selalu ada cerita, selalu ada kenangan.   Masih ingat waktu naik motor sama-sama, tiba-tiba hujan turun. Baju dah basah, jalan makin licin, tapi dia tetap bawa motor dengan tenang. Aku duduk belakang, diam, tapi dalam hati rasa selamat. Dia selalu tahu jalan mana nak lalu, bila nak berhenti. “ Sikit lagi je, tahan dulu ,” katanya.   Bila hujan makin lebat, kami berteduh. Kadang-kadang bawah jejantas, kadang-kadang depan kedai yang tak buka. Aku duduk sebelah dia, tengok hujan jatuh. Tak banyak cakap, cuma dengar bunyi hujan. Diam yang selesa.   Sekarang, setiap kali hujan turun, aku teringat balik semua tu. Teringat cara dia pandu dalam hujan, cara dia tenang bila jalan basah. Hujan selalu buat aku rasa dia masih ada, dalam cara yang aku sendiri susah nak jelaskan....

Dear Sayang,   Today, I was driving with my brother. He sat beside me, lost in his phone, and when I tried to talk, he didn’t really listen. It reminded me of you—because you were never like that. You always gave me your full attention, like my words were the most important thing in the world.   I remember how we used to drive around every weekend, finishing our weekly laundry duty, turning something so mundane into our little adventure. And oh, the endless drives just to find a place to eat—because deciding where to go was always harder than the drive itself! We’d debate, suggest, reject, and laugh about it until we finally settled on a spot.   And of course, our hospital trips. No matter how serious the reason, you always managed to make it feel light. The moment we stepped into the doctor’s room, you’d act like a child—sometimes sulking, sometimes joking, just to escape the scolding you knew was coming. You made even the hardest moments feel a little eas...

  Apa pon salah kita   jangan pergi jauh Nakal camne pon diri ni Jangan tinggalkan kita jauh-jauh Please jangan menjauh...Nanti kita sakit kerinduan Rindu Dulu saya selalu pesan, jangan tinggal saya jauh-jauh. Jangan biar saya seorang. Tapi sekarang awak betul-betul dah pergi. Dan saya rasa kehilangan itu setiap hari. Saya rindu nak bercakap dengan awak. Rindu nak gaduh manja, lepas tu baik semula. Rindu nak dengar suara awak, tengok senyum awak. Tapi semua tu dah tak ada. Kadang-kadang saya pandang telefon, macam nak taip sesuatu—tapi nak hantar pada siapa? Saya sebut nama awak dalam hati, tapi saya tahu, awak takkan jawab lagi. Sakitnya rindu ni, tapi saya kena belajar hidup dengannya. Awak mungkin dah jauh, tapi tolong jangan biarkan saya rasa awak hilang terus.

 I found this on my other blog (why so many? i have no idea), wrote it way back 2009?  Enjoy __________________________________________________________________________________ Me: Salam Mak Teh..nak wat udang masak lemak camne? Mak Teh: Ooo ko amik kunyit hidup..pehtu cili api dalam 15 biji tumbuk jgn mesin.. Me : 15 biji?!! parah la..mamat mana makan pedas teh Mak Teh: Ngengada lak dio..kawen ngan org melako x mkn podeh..apo eh..15 biji x podeh mano do.. Me : Oo itu je ye teh? Kalau pakai santan kotak..boleh ye..malas la nak perah santan Mak Teh : Boleh je..jgn susahkan yg mudah..pehtu jgn lupo daun kunyit tau..masukkan sekalik   Me : Ooo bukan masuk halia sekalik ke teh? Mak teh : Haih mana ko belajar masak lemak cili api pakai halia? Me : Aaaaa..hehe saje je teh..ok teh tenkiu assalamualaikum Semalam projek udang masak lemak cili api..huhu teringin lak nak makan..teringat lak pakcik tuh suka makan udang and sotong (padahal..mana leh makan!!). Aku pon mulakan projek..cd...

Being the only daughter with three brothers? Wow. What a ride. Sometimes they drive me crazy, but at the end of the day, they’re my biggest protectors.   ✨ Angah – The closest to me. My partner in crime, my secret-keeper. He’s been with me through everything. He taught me how to ride a bicycle, how to drive a car, and even told me I should marry my husband because *he just knew* my husband was a good man. He’s stubborn, especially about his health, but I know he always has my back.   ✨ Abang – The strict one, the responsible one… but also the one who melts when I cry. When my husband passed away, he rode his motorcycle *all the way from Kelantan to Kuala Lumpur* just to be with me. He doesn’t say much, but his actions? They speak volumes.   ✨ Adik – The youngest, the chillest, and the easiest to talk to. He’s the one I can sit down and discuss things with, but sometimes he’s a little *kalut* too. Still, I know that if I ever need help, he’ll be there. ...

 Hi Sayangku, It’s been months, but somehow, it still feels like yesterday. And now, as my iddah comes to an end on March 4, 2025, I find myself standing at a threshold I never wanted to reach. The world expects me to move forward, to step into a new chapter—but how do I do that when every part of me still aches for you? You taught me so much. You taught me how to be strong, how to be brave, how to face challenges with a steady heart. You taught me patience, resilience, and how to keep going even when things got tough. But there’s one thing you forgot to teach me. You never taught me how to live without you. I try, Sayang. I wake up, I go through the motions, I even laugh sometimes. But every quiet moment reminds me that you’re not here. No one told me that grief isn’t just sadness—it’s love that has nowhere to go. And every time I reach for you in the silence, I realize all over again that you’re not coming back. Ramadhan is near, and for the first time, I’ll go through it wi...

 Ramadhan is a time of reflection, discipline, and spiritual growth. But for coffee lovers like me, it’s also a time of caffeine withdrawal, zombie mornings, and the ultimate test of willpower—functioning without that first glorious sip of coffee. The Coffee Struggle is Real Let’s be real—fasting from food? Manageable. Fasting from coffee? That’s a personal attack. The first few days feel like an out-of-body experience: - Morning brain fog  so thick, you could get lost in it. - Headaches and sluggishness because your body is screaming, "WHERE IS MY COFFEE?!" - Sleepy afternoons  where you question all your life choices that led to this moment. It’s not just the caffeine—it’s the ritual, the comfort, the emotional support beverage we all need. So, how do we survive without it?  Why Ramadhan Feels Different This Year This year hits differently. It’s my first Ramadhan without my husband, and honestly, it feels weird. The usual buzz of excitement feels quieter now, and ...

Looking back now, I realize I had already prepared to bring you home. The hospital was great, the nurses were kind, and the doctors were amazing. But deep down, I knew—I would bring you home eventually. You were always meant to come home. While you were in the hospital, so many reached out to help, offering support—financially, emotionally. I was never alone, yet I had never felt lonelier. 2 October 2024 The day the doctor told me. Stage 4 cancer. I took a deep breath. The doctor looked at me, waiting for my response, but I had no words. My only question was, Is he in pain? The doctor suggested radiotherapy. Again, I asked, Will he be in pain? I didn’t want you to suffer. The doctor assured me they would do everything to keep you comfortable. 10 October You were moved from the Neuro ward to Oncology. By then, you were unconscious. But I still came, giving you milk, making sure you got your medicine. The nurses and doctors here were stricter—perhaps they were exhausted. Kak I...

Dear You, I still find myself looking for you in the quiet moments. In the sound of the rain, in songs we used to listen to, in the way the world feels just a little emptier without you here. I remember how you used to smile, no matter how hard life was. How you carried so much on your shoulders but never let it dull your kindness. I chose you not because of what you had, but because of who you were—humble, hardworking, and full of love. And even now, I would choose you a thousand times over. I miss you. Every day. In ways I never thought possible. Dear Me, You have to keep going. It won’t be easy, but you have to try. He would want you to smile again, to find joy, to live—not just survive. You are stronger than you think, even when the loneliness feels too heavy. Cry when you need to, but don’t let the grief drown out the love. He is with you, in the memories, in the way you love, in every tomorrow you step into. One step at a time. One breath at a time. After the rain, a thousand tom...

I never thought I’d be writing like this. But a friend told me that words can help—help me heal, help me remember, help me keep moving forward. So here I am. Writing. This space is for the love, the loss, and everything in between. It’s for the loneliness, the memories that sneak up on me, the laughter that still lingers, and the quiet moments that make me miss him even more. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. But I do know this—after the rain, life still goes on. And I’m learning, slowly, how to walk through a thousand tomorrows with him still in my heart. If you’re here, whether you know me or not, whether you’re grieving or just passing by—welcome. You don’t have to walk alone. This is After the Rain, With Me . 💙