My Moksu

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The message beeped in late Friday night and it did not look good. I tried to read it a few times and it came up the same thing. My auntie lost her battle in ICU and passed away. She was fighting multiple diseases and at around midnight her body gave up. It was a great loss for me. Auntie Moksu Peah was a half-sister and a good friend to my late mom and great auntie to us all. Her warm smile will always be with us for eternity. Rest in peace Auntie! May Allah place you with the pious in Jannah. She was buried early the next morning in her hometown in Golok, Southern Thailand.
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I have never been to this border city despite it is only half an hour’s drive from my home in Pasir Mas,Kelantan. Many of us in Kelantan have relatives living across the border; it was once a place common to us. The King of Siam took away our land in a battle long time ago. Anyway, it was a bitter past that has redesigned our present life. Her burial was done swiftly and quickly right after Fajr prayers. I arrived a few hours later. I pushed myself to go and crossed the border in an effort to meet my auntie’s family. The thing that I should do a long time ago. I met them every now and then during Raya or wedding feasts so we don’t know each other very well. The faces are bits and pieces from the past. I tried to put them together to make a picture. A picture that meant a lot some time ago. We were speechless as if trying to figure out what was the last words we said to each other. It seems so close to our heart; yet, too broken to mean anything. We did not mean to break anything, circumstances had put  us apart; thus, we took our own path. But now we are here again so let us start again. The smiles and the friendships that we once ignored. It was very unfortunate to meet again in a very sad situation. We have lost someone close and all of the sudden the world seemed crumbling down. I saw frustration and hopelessness on every face that I tried to recognize. The eyes were still wet with tears whenever they tried to tell the last moments of Moksu’s life. I went to her grave; the soil was still fresh. Said prayers and contemplated on the warm relationships that we managed to cherish. I remember mostly of her smiles and relaxed conversation that we had every time we met. My late Mom always talked about her whenever I asked about our relatives; as if Moksu was the only one I should worry about. It was the last day of Ramadhan and her passing away will blow away the spirit of Syawal to the limit. For the first time her family will celebrate Hari Raya without her and her favourite dishes of the day. Things will be difficult for everybody.
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At the immigration complex in Rantau Panjang

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