"Ayoh dah meninggal. Al Fatihah."

That was the short message I got from my sister at 10.18 am local time. Ayoh is my paternal grandfather - in Kelantanese culture, we call the grandparents as our parents call them.

Abah texted me later on saying Ayoh passed away around 6 pm Malaysian time. He asked me to tell Munzir as well. Kakak said Ayoh went slowly, all his children had the chance to say their last words and ask for forgiveness. I haven't been 'allowed' to call yet, Kakak says everyone's busy with prayers and the rest of the funeral preparations.

Ayoh has been sick and bedridden for a long time, probably even before I came to the UK. I'm not really sure what he actually suffered from, but he had the usual elderly problems. So when everyone went back to KB this time because "Ayoh sakit", unsuspectingly, I thought things would be as they usually were. If I had expected this to happen, I would have asked to talk to Ayoh when I called a couple of days ago. Now everything is regret. I regret not spending much time with him when I went back to KB last summer, all because I was too wrapped up in my own affairs. I regret not being a good granddaughter ever since he fell sick. I can't remember having a proper chat with him since he's been sick. I can't remember ever feeding him, or helping him to the toilet, or anything. I always left it to my grandma, who isn't even that strong herself. And to think that everytime Munzir or I went back to KB, Ayoh would cry as soon as he saw our faces and each time before we left, because we were the two grandkids he only saw very rarely. Probably Azim and Husna share a similar experience.

Now that I think about it, I can't figure out why things changed between me and Ayoh since he fell sick. And now that he's gone, all the memories are rushing back. One of the earliest photos I have is of Ayoh standing up, wearing his kopiah and glasses, and carrying me in his arms. I barely even had any hair back then. When I was little, Ayoh took me to tadika every single day on his Pasolla while he was on his way to teach. Ayoh was an Arabic teacher - people used to call him Ustaz Muhammad Sibawaih, after the great Arab linguist - and the main lorong into our housing area was named after him. I remember when I was in school, Abah used to make me bring my Arabic homework with me each time balik kampung, so that instead of just wasting time playing around day and night, I learned some Arabic from Ayoh. I'm not sure exactly where Ayoh taught, but I know that each time he went out, he would drop by at Berek 12 and buy all kinds of delicious food and savouries. Ayoh was always a joker, there was always something he could poke fun at. One of the things I remember the most is that he always used to compare his skin colour to Aie's, to confirm that Aie was actually a family member. Haha. There are just so many things to remember... Huhu.

Ayoh passed away leaving a wife, 13 children, and numerous grandchildren and great grandchildren. Al-Fatihah for him. May his soul rest in the peace and blessings of Allah.

Pics from Pata'ie.

In the younger years with Ayoh and Ma. And Azim, Along, Ijue, Achik and Buje.

Ayoh's deteriorating condition. This was when he was still able to sit, about 9 months ago. After that, he was just skin and bones.

I miss Ayoh. I miss my family...