Little Miracles
This post is dedicated to my father. All the things that happened until he passed away, I wanted to write it down so I didn't forget. Everything that God has done during that time, hopefully I didn't miss anything. It will be long, but hopefully it will bless everyone who read it.
It began when my father was diagnosed with stage 3 lymphoma. Everyone was shocked because not a single family member has fallen ill with cancer before. But it was curable, so we still saw a glimpse of hope.
Before my father went to Penang for his second chemo, my aunt has arranged a trip for us to Malaysia, and on the way we could drop by to the hospital. Around a day or two days before I departed, my father got treatment in hospital for having diarrhea as a side effect of his chemo. So, the trip consist of sightseeing in Penang and visiting my father. And I realized we really haven't sat down together to pray since he and my mother went away. On a day before I went home, when we were at the mall with my mother, she said that she had to go back early to the hospital. My aunt stayed at the mall and had a plan to eat sushi later. To be honest, I really wanted to eat sushi (I really love it!) but something said to me to go to the hospital with my mom. Even in front of the Uber car I still weighed this decision but I went anyway. And that night, I had the chance to pray together with them. Now that I think about it, it was the last time I pray together with my father.
A day after I got home in Jakarta, that's when my mom said my father got admitted in the ICU. This has happened before, but I didn't know how urgent it was. Until my brother called me and he said to me to go immediately to Penang again. He couldn't go because his passport has expired. For this, I had to sacrifice a singing job that I wanted so much. It was hard. But reality hit me harder when I saw my father up close in the ICU with ventilator. And this condition was going on and on, without knowing when he could be fully recovered. Sometimes a slight improvement, sometimes a disappointment. I would not forget that moment, asking God countless time 'when will it end?'. But there was another small miracle, my mother, who used to slander my father with negative words, tried to encourage him using 'I love you' and such, even though my father was on anesthesia. And she who has abandoned praying for years, even asked me to lead the prayer on her initiative.
After my brother got his passport, he flew to where we were. A day before he was supposed to go back to the seminary, we were called by the hospital at daybreak. That day was the day my father went home to heaven. Our family sang 'Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling' till he was gone. Facing with my father's last moment, I realize we knew so little about death. Like how a body who was my father before was not my father anymore. Where did he go? And I even felt bad to leave the coffin in the funeral home alone (no relative could come because the plane ticket had sold out). Even though my father was not there anymore, I realized I wanted to cling into anything physical. So I tried to let go, a believer should know where he belongs.
Deep in my mind I was a little relieved. I told my brother I had this little prayer. I prayed for God to end our struggle while my brother was there, be it my father got better or God called him back. And my brother also said that he prayed for it too. There was this joy that despite all that happened, God knew our sorrow and answered our prayer.
Finally, we went home to Jakarta for good. Looking here and there were so many daily things we took for granted. And now it was gone, it was too late. There won't be anyone who share his favorite Nasi Padang or durian anymore with me. Or there won't be a Whatsapp chat asking when I will be home when it's too late at night. Another lesson learned.
I would like to thank all my brothers and sisters in Christ for all the support. Even though some of them are far away and we have only met once, we are one in Christ indeed. And I never walked alone in all of these. To Him be the glory!
It began when my father was diagnosed with stage 3 lymphoma. Everyone was shocked because not a single family member has fallen ill with cancer before. But it was curable, so we still saw a glimpse of hope.
Before my father went to Penang for his second chemo, my aunt has arranged a trip for us to Malaysia, and on the way we could drop by to the hospital. Around a day or two days before I departed, my father got treatment in hospital for having diarrhea as a side effect of his chemo. So, the trip consist of sightseeing in Penang and visiting my father. And I realized we really haven't sat down together to pray since he and my mother went away. On a day before I went home, when we were at the mall with my mother, she said that she had to go back early to the hospital. My aunt stayed at the mall and had a plan to eat sushi later. To be honest, I really wanted to eat sushi (I really love it!) but something said to me to go to the hospital with my mom. Even in front of the Uber car I still weighed this decision but I went anyway. And that night, I had the chance to pray together with them. Now that I think about it, it was the last time I pray together with my father.
A day after I got home in Jakarta, that's when my mom said my father got admitted in the ICU. This has happened before, but I didn't know how urgent it was. Until my brother called me and he said to me to go immediately to Penang again. He couldn't go because his passport has expired. For this, I had to sacrifice a singing job that I wanted so much. It was hard. But reality hit me harder when I saw my father up close in the ICU with ventilator. And this condition was going on and on, without knowing when he could be fully recovered. Sometimes a slight improvement, sometimes a disappointment. I would not forget that moment, asking God countless time 'when will it end?'. But there was another small miracle, my mother, who used to slander my father with negative words, tried to encourage him using 'I love you' and such, even though my father was on anesthesia. And she who has abandoned praying for years, even asked me to lead the prayer on her initiative.
After my brother got his passport, he flew to where we were. A day before he was supposed to go back to the seminary, we were called by the hospital at daybreak. That day was the day my father went home to heaven. Our family sang 'Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling' till he was gone. Facing with my father's last moment, I realize we knew so little about death. Like how a body who was my father before was not my father anymore. Where did he go? And I even felt bad to leave the coffin in the funeral home alone (no relative could come because the plane ticket had sold out). Even though my father was not there anymore, I realized I wanted to cling into anything physical. So I tried to let go, a believer should know where he belongs.
Deep in my mind I was a little relieved. I told my brother I had this little prayer. I prayed for God to end our struggle while my brother was there, be it my father got better or God called him back. And my brother also said that he prayed for it too. There was this joy that despite all that happened, God knew our sorrow and answered our prayer.
Finally, we went home to Jakarta for good. Looking here and there were so many daily things we took for granted. And now it was gone, it was too late. There won't be anyone who share his favorite Nasi Padang or durian anymore with me. Or there won't be a Whatsapp chat asking when I will be home when it's too late at night. Another lesson learned.
I would like to thank all my brothers and sisters in Christ for all the support. Even though some of them are far away and we have only met once, we are one in Christ indeed. And I never walked alone in all of these. To Him be the glory!
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