2006-11-03 - 9:32 a.m.
"Your friend Sadat just passed away this morning."
I got that text message from Mom yesterday at 10:30 am.:( She'd also informed me about his funeral in Tanah Kusir at 11:30. Tanah Kusir, South Jakarta. The graveyard area I often pass by --- almost everyday from home. I've already had relatives buried there before, and now an old friend too.
Sadat and I had attended the same elementary school. He'd always been a short, skinny, and pale kid. He was sort of quiet too, probably having something to do with his shyness and lack of confidence. He couldn't run as fast as most of the other boys in our class, but our P.E. teachers had always been very understanding. Well, at least he'd still been able to walk normally...
...until the fourth grade.:| That was when he started having trouble with his own legs. His legs had somehow gotten smaller and his muscles...weaker. He couldn't run anymore, so he was released from P.E. Mom had been familiar with most people from The PTA at school, so she also knew Sadat's mother --- a nice, pale-looking lady I call Tante Maya. From Tante Maya, Mom and I had learned the sad truth about her eldest son.
*deep sigh* I don't remember the name of the disease, but it is rare and genetical. I'm not a doctor nor a scientist either, so pardon me if I'm mistaken or unable to explain this correctly. All I know is that --- basically --- it slowly and gradually de-generates a person's immune systems and body cells. Usually, the mother only carries the genetical disorder and passes it on to the sons (btw, Sadat's only younger brother now suffers the same problem.:|) Because of that, he must not be overly exhausted, or he'll collapse easily.
In fifth grade, Sadat had completely lost his ability to even walk. Our classroom was on the third floor of the school building, so --- everyday --- his family chaffeaur had had to carry him and his backpack upstairs. He practically couldn't go anywhere on his own. There were times when some of the other kids and I would just take our lunches and eat with him in the classroom, so he wouldn't have to be alone. Or I'd sit and scrawl something in my notebook while talking to him. Or, we'd ask him what he'd wanted from the school cafeteria downstairs, so we could get it for him. Anything. Or just talks and jokes. Sadat was funny.:) He loved jokes, comedies, and comics. He even never minded jokes about him, but could never stand pity. He'd simply hated that.
In sixth grade, the school praised him The Spirit Award for his constant courage and...well, spirit to achieve.:D After all, Sadat had always been so bright. That night in the hall, the whole class had stood up and applauded for him, while he accepted that on his wheelchair. His proud mother had been in tears.
The last time I met him again was in high-school. He was still on his wheelchair, while the other guys were running on the soccerfield or dribbling a basketball. He'd looked so young and fragile --- almost childlike.
Long ago, the doctors had predicted that he'd only have gotten to live until the age of...21.
Sadat got to live until he was 25.:) An extra blessing of four years, wasn't it? The only good thing I'll always remember about him is how he'd just been a good person --- nothing else. Perhaps God had somehow protected him with his disease, because I could see well that no evil beasts in the world had never harmed him. Perhaps God would provide him something much better in the afterlife, more than a pair of healthy, normal legs and ability to walk and run on earth.
Or maybe I'm just trying not to grieve too much.:(
Thinking of good, old Tante Maya and Sadat's younger brother, I can't help but wondering, "God, will she have to lose another son too someday? She's already lost one."
Only God has the answers. Only God...
The Mourning Author
