I visited our old apartment.
The stairs that I helped you climb when you had too much to drink.
The creaking front door that sometimes refuses to open when you had to go to the toilet.
The smell oak wood floor and jasmine scent candles.
The shoe rack where you put your stilettos and running shoes.
Stepping inside, I looked at our makeshift sofa-bed, facing the sliding door, reminisced the laughs we had while we named the stars.
I walked across the small living room towards the hallway of our bed.
I passed by the toilet and the silhouette of the two us brushing our teeth flashed.
The opened door of our bedroom haunts the warmth of your cuddles and the soft brush of your hair.
The window that leads to the fire escape ladder where I used to smoke, then you would nag the questions of "who's gonna take care of me when you're sick?" and "you're sleeping on the couch tonight since you want to smoke" with a pout face of yours.
I stepped back into the living room, seeing your old vinyl player that you used to play My Funny Valentine. I could still hear the lingering tunes at the back of my mind.
Then the kitchen, I remembered our last quarrel over the counter. You said that you wanted kids and I couldn't risk you by giving a birth. You said I was selfish, you said a lot of things.
And I sat down on the sofa-bed, weeping.
I told you.
I didn't want to lose you.
I did agreed on having a child years later, but at what cost?
You were bedridden on the hospital bed.
The doctor said that you had lost too much blood.
I pulled myself together,
I walked up to you,
That stupid smile you gave,
You said,
"Isokay sayang. I'll be fine, take care of Umara and yourself okie?"
But would I be fine?
How could I take care of my child when I failed to take care of her mother?
I couldn't bring myself to speak.
My jaws were sore from clenching.
I held your cold hands, they were soft, like they always do.
I wished I had more time, I wished that you had more time.
And then I heard the flatline.
There was a loud deafening cry, I didn't know who it was until your mother pulled me away, she said,
"It's alright, she's in a better place now. Don't cry please. Be strong for her."
It was me,
Your mother wiped my tears away,
The nurse handed me our baby, she had your eyes,
I snapped out of it. A text.
Umara: Papa?
I'm downstairs
Would you want me to come up?
It's been 15 years, and I did sayang. I kept my promise to take care of her and myself. She's grown so much, she looks so alike as yours.
I stood up, wiped any remnants of my tears.
Took one last glance at our home. And bid my goodbye.
