As I grow older, I realise Mama is truly a fighter. Her friends always told me she was so brave back then — and of course, she is still so brave now. But as a child, I wasn’t aware that her courage holds so many stories; her courage hugs so many people; her courage embraces the dim light on people’s lives, then helps them to increase the brightness with their capabilities. Her courage makes her a fighter. A good one, a kind one, and a tough one.
Before Bapak passed away, Mama always held his hands, cared for him, and motivated him to get better. As a third-born — who turned into a first child — I witnessed almost all her efforts to help her loved ones smile slightly longer. Bapak had been sick for more than five years. Some people say that illness can either bring the whole family together or it can tear them apart. One thing that I know for sure is that Bapak’s illness brings our family closer, especially Mama and Bapak. And because of that, I can tell that she is a fighter.
I’m so proud to be able to call her Mama.
What grants life’s essence, its deep call, to journey forth amidst rise and fall?
For me, one of the answers is living with her as her children. Back then, when Mama, Bapak, and I travelled by motorcycle to Jogja, Kalibening, Punggelan, or Purwokerto, there were always two singers who didn’t want to stop singing along the way. From Gleen Fredly to Ebiet G. Ade, Mama and I turned the motorcycle into a stage and made Bapak the only listener of the show. Then, if we — sometimes — get too tired to sing, we turned the motorcycle into a stage full of nostalgic stories of Mama when she was young.
She was a runner. She is a table tennis athlete. She likes to play badminton. She also plays tennis, and she once played volleyball. That’s probably why she never goes back and keeps fighting for everything she wants to pursue. She persevered for what she currently holds and will continue to strive for what is just. Thats my Mama.
When you see her playing table tennis, you will be surprised because she will scream when she gets the point — to make the match more exciting — and she won’t feel tired even after her third match. Again, thats my Mama.
As a teacher, wife, mother, and daughter, she always tries her best to complete all the roles. My admiration for her has increased tenfold.
Today, Mama celebrates her birthday. I know her birthday today will seem slightly empty because Bapak is no longer here with us. But he will watch us from above and know that her prayers, my prayers, our prayers here will always hug him from afar.
Happy birthday, Mama. Thank you for being around. Thank you for teaching me how to fight without hurting anyone. Thank you for teaching and showing me what bravery looks like. Thank you for your endless love. I know you love me and Ibra so much; you love us, warts and all. And I hope you feel the same way. I hope you know that your children love you to bits and I admire you, so much.
Once again, happy birthday, Mama.
From your first child — who will try her best to be a fighter, not a quitter.
