Aliyawanders

It was around 9:15 that night, or maybe it was 10:15. It happened three years ago, on September 1, 2021. A memory I wish I could forget, but how could I?

It’s like my mind separates from my body, and I’m watching myself go through the motions without really feeling connected. I’m aware of everything I’m doing, but it’s like I’m a spectator, not in control. It feels as though I’m watching a movie of myself, just… there, without the usual emotions attached.

I woke up my husband, told him to get dressed, then went to wake up my son. My husband looked puzzled, but I asked him, please, no questions. I couldn’t handle them right now. Just get ready; we need to go to my mom’s house.

My dad had just called me in a somber tone. “Aliya, mak ni, come here.”

So, we drove there in complete silence. I texted a few close friends: “Dad called about my mom. All he said was, ‘Aliya, mak ni, come here,’ and nothing else.”

The night felt unnaturally quiet, the sky an endless, pitch-black void.

We arrived at my parents’ house about 40 minutes later. The house, too, was unnervingly silent. I could see light spilling from the side windows, and an unfamiliar car parked in the driveway. We knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Peeking into the side window, there was no one. I called my dad’s and mom’s phones, but still, no answer. My heart pounded. What was going on? Had I imagined my dad’s call? Was this all just some nightmare?

Frantic, I started calling every clinic and hospital in the area, even reaching as far as Shah Alam and Klang, but no one had any information about my parents. Where were they?

Confused and scared, we waited in the car for another hour. Eventually, I turned to Amir and said, “Let’s go to Starbucks. It’s open 24 hours; we can sit there instead of waiting in the dark. This is just… too much.”

I kept calling every number I could think of, even reaching out to my dad’s relatives in KL to see if anyone had heard from him. But nothing. Nothing.

When the clock struck midnight, a friend suggested I should call the police. So I did. And then I texted my dad: “I’ve notified the police. I can’t find either of you after you called. I’ve tried reaching you both so many times. Where are you? Where is Mom?”

Almost as soon as I hit ‘send,’ my dad called back, delivering the news I’d dreaded most. Mom… she was gone.

This is all I’m ready to share for now. Grief is not a straightforward journey; it can come over you at the most unexpected times. In the future, I may share more fragments of my story, piece by piece.

I appreciate that you find meaning in my articles, photos, and videos, they hold precious memories. Please don’t reproduce, copy, or share them without my written permission. These moments are deeply personal to me, and I ask for your understanding. If you’d like to use anything, please reach out to me directly. Thank you for honoring these memories with respect.