OVER ART CLASS AND MATHEMATICS

My tribute to my late brother-in-law : Haji Wan Ahmad bi Hj.Wan Ibrahim.

Things I could recall, recollect, ponder (and whatever else that translate similar meanings) and appreciate.

I was as little as 12 years old and I could recall he was already in our family. He was a teacher in Kuala Terengganu, married to my eldest sister, Hajah F.Zawahir. Each school holiday, I would spend times in their house, visiting my beautiful grandma and playing with their children, Zan, Nor and Nah. My beautiful late grandma also lived with them. She was a petite and fragile looking person but very brave and determined at heart. I believed these characters, were passed down, right to me.

He would voluntarily teach me art and mathematics whenever he was free. He touched my life from as little as that and he would always giving me advice, reminding about prayer times, to be kind hearted, humble and be good to people around. Sometimes he and his family visited me and my Ma. Without fail, we always kept a constant touch with each other.

That was to be my closest brother-in-law. He was a pious man, kind at heart, never failed to lend a helping hand, humble and very grateful to others. I remember receiving a very touching letter (now I have lost it, what a shame) from him appreciating my help towards his family member and that was the only family member openly complemented that I was kind at heart.

When he was struck with Alzheimer, I visited him and his family constantly.

Late October last year... I went home visiting him (and my elder sister, Kah on the demise of her beloved eldest grandson, Mohammad).

It was his feeding time. I took his food that his daughter, Nor had prepared. The moment I lifted the food into his mouth, my eyes swelled with tears that blinded my vision. It was the most wonderful moment to be able to feed him. Somehow, there was a sense of ... everything touching crept inside me. Being able to help him with this simple task, made me feel that Allah gave me back what he had advised me before. There was this strange sense of belonging and appreciating what he had done to me since I was young. BUT most of all, being able to lift up my hands to feed him struck my heart dearly. Who on earth could imagine that one day, this man who had touched my life so dearly would be fed by these hands of mine? It was so wonderful to have such feelings, facing him who was so helpless, waiting for people to help and managed chores for him.

Nor was such a great daughter who had never complained in her life. She helped her mom all those times when her energy was needed. She was better than most nurses. The most crucial times were to feed him, clean him, keeping him accompanied, saying prayers for him and talking to him. They were not all that she managed. She also managed the kitchen with foods for the whole day's meal for her and her mom.

Another moment that I could never forget was to see hundreds of people endless came for the funeral. From the day he passed on, until the next three days (while I was there) I witnessed this strange event. This was his attitude that he had always practiced throughout his life, visiting relatives and friends. He kept this tradition until my late Ma passed away. He was dearly loved and missed by his own family, his siblings and his own mom who is 80 years plus and of course his kind friends and colleagues.

May Allah Bless his soul and may he rest in peace.