Last Friday, after a jazz band rehearsal in my university, I dashed back home, packing up my stuff and wait for father to pick me up.
We were going straight to the northern part of the country, to join the rest of the family of my mom's side.
The lights were still on at my grandmother's house, and there she laid on the bed with the batik cloth covering her whole body. A thin piece of cotton scarf was laid to cover her face.
All relatives were clearly couldn't sleep that night.
This would be the first time I directly got involved in a funeral, especially when it comes to a close family member; my mom's mother.
With other cousins, we together helped lifting her carefully from the bed into the bathroom, where the ladies would help bathing her gently, before covering her body with white cotton.
The saddest moment was when all the relatives gathered and gave her the last kiss on her forehead, before finally they covered her face with the kafan and have her prepared for the final shalat.
At the cemetery, I saw the men slowly lifting her, bringing her into the grave where she finally rest.
It's a reminder, when it's time for my call, I too will be put into the same chamber, waiting there til judgement day.
I will be questioned by two angels, asking who is the God that I've served my life to, and who is my prophet, and what is my faith.
May her soul will be showered with the love of God.
May I always try and try to be a well-mannered, polite and good person in this life.