Letters to Sayang, Coffee with Friends, and a Breakup with PKR



24 May 2025.

Dear whoever ready blog 
(do I have one? Well it's ok..enjoy!)

Today feels… layered. Like one of those days where time wraps itself around memories and moments, and suddenly everything feels tender.

I wrote a letter to my late husband. I do that sometimes, talk to him like he’s still just a few steps behind me. Maybe he is. Maybe he’s laughing at me for watching an animated Malaysian movie and actually enjoying it. I can just picture him like how he's scrunching his nose, shaking his head, but still tagging along. Always tagging along. That was his kind of love. Quiet, loyal, no questions asked.

And me? Demanding as ever.

But I miss him. God, I miss him.

After the movie, I had lunch with my friend and her husband, catching up like old times. Then, like fate had a calendar to fill, I ended up having coffee with another friend, we sit together with one of our friend who just got let go from work. Not because she wasn’t good (she’s brilliant), but because her job was declared “redundant.” Sixteen years of experience, international exposure… and just like that cleared out.

My heart ached for her. We talked, we vented, and I listened. Maybe that’s what we’re all doing now, holding space for each other in a world that feels a little too quick to move on.

Speaking of letting go, I think I’m done with PKR. Yes, the party I once supported with fire in my chest. The idol, the reformist, the ideals now buried under power plays and nepotism. Rafizi being sidelined so someone’s daughter can climb up the ladder? No. I didn’t sign up for that. I don’t follow heroes who forget the people once they sit on thrones.

So yeah. PKR, kita break up. Rakyat bawahan tengah memerhati.

Also, Angah’s shoulder is slowly healing. That’s a small win I’ll hold on to. And guess what? My work friends are planning a trip to Cherating. I haven’t said yes yet. The last trip I really lived was with him… we went to Terengganu and Kelantan. Was it three or four years ago?

Should I go? I don’t know. Maybe.

Grief is funny. It doesn’t stop you from laughing, but it’s always there in the corner. It watches you smile, nods at your strength, and waits to sit beside you in the quiet.

But I’m still here. Living, laughing, showing up. And sometimes, that’s enough.

To anyone reading this, you’re doing better than you think.

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