Pending Nuptials

It was 11:30 pm when my cellphone rang. I picked up the call, muttering an automatic salam while trying to shake off enough sleep for a coherent conversation. With whomever it was at the other end of the line.

“Kak Sofie… Along ni.”

Oh. Right. Along.

Our families are very close, Along’s and mine. Her mother was my mum’s older sister, and my favorite aunt. We grew up practically in each other’s homes; we were each other’s support system and lifeline when things were rough. And when we lost her mother to cancer three years ago, that lifeline became essential as my family struggled to keep a strong hold on Along, her siblings and their mu’alaf father.

Our familial relationship meant we were cousins. However, her growing up with me felt every bit like we were siblings.

My mind flew back briefly to the phone conversation between my mum and her dad earlier in the evening. He had invited—no, requested our family’s presence at a risik meeting for Along this weekend. My mother was to take the place of my late aunt in the upcoming discussions.

My mum accepted the task, as a devoted sister and stand-in mother would. But I thought she seemed a tad sad about it. And I think I know why.

Her first experience in marrying off a daughter will, unfortunately, not start with her own brood.

I know she feels a bit apprehensive. I am the eldest grandchild of the family, and although the phrase langkah bendul doesn’t immediately come to mind, that’s essentially what it is, isn’t it? I’d been beside my mother when she ended the conversation, and her eyes told me so much when she looked at me. I didn’t want her to pull me down that depressing road, so I cut her off by teasing her about what good practice it’ll be for when my time finally comes. If it ever.

My mother never pressured me into marriage. I was sure her silence on the subject was due to her respect for my feelings, and faith that I would find my own way to the altar someday, somehow. I’ve always been the independent one after all. And my father? well, he’s only too happy to see me remain unattached. Something about always being daddy’s little girl.

Honestly, the opposite sex – and all that that entails – was never my forte. Outside of friendship and camaraderie, I really didn’t understand guys. I was always their older sister, their friend, their confidant. Relationships beyond these perimeters were locked doors and off limits to me.

Oh, not that I’ve never tried gaining access. Believe me, I’d risked it enough to hurt.

I’ve watched the way my female colleagues deal with the men where we worked. All the silly banter and witty comebacks and subtle signals. I thought, what man in his right mind would be attracted to so much nonsense? And yet…

It drew them like moths to a flame. All of them.

I didn’t banter. I wasn’t sharp enough for witty comebacks. And according to reliable sources, I am completely oblivious to signals of any kind! I’d proven this true by observing the men whenever they were in my presence. At best, some were polite and conversational. At worst, I was ignored altogether. Guess it's nothing but business with Miss Shaaruddin...

Perhaps my grandmother was the one to put it most delicately. It had me and my mother laughing when we heard what she had to say. It also secretly made my mother an emotional wreck not long after that.

Anak kau sorang yang tak laku.

Truthful words. Short and effective. And my dear cousin’s pending nuptial is only one of so many chances my grandma has had to prove it.

What else can I do but laugh?

Haish, somebody gimme a big fat hug!

Aftermath of a conversation

“How long can you stay with someone who doesn’t love you?”

Ah. I wasn’t expecting that one. A tricky question, that is.

I looked at my brother, ten times more composed than the last mess I’d seen him when we first talked about broken hearts. It was something we shared in confidence. Well, being eldest in the family has its perks. I am sole privy to everyone’s darkest secrets. But then, I seem to have a particular understanding with this one. Experience wise.

It’s funny. I had a feeling the question was phrased in reference to my romantic chagrin rather than his own.

My brother wanted me to produce an answer. I wanted to keep him away from it. I wasn’t sure my response could help him; it certainly didn’t help me much. I don’t need him sinking into that sorry pit of despair all over again. So, as always I took the middle path. I shrugged my shoulders and gave him my best who knows expression.

Once bitten twice shy. That was my brother. He began with having so much faith and trust in one single being called a girl. She was, according to him, the very symbol of the rest of his life. She was religious, unbridled yet seemingly subservient. She would be the perfect life partner for someone who desperately dreamed of a family with conserved order. Wife at home with kids and meals and laundry. Husband working hard to support the family.

For four years it was all blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Until the day she happily told him she was getting engaged. To someone else.

The grieving cycle hit him really hard then. He broke, and I’d spent weeks walking him through the denial, the anger, self blame and depression. For a while he lost faith in women, particularly religious ones. He doubted a lot of things about himself, and went rambling on about what he could, should or would have done to save the situation. It was the most frustrating, annoying and painful thing to watch, especially when it’s your own blood.

How long can you stay with someone who doesn’t love you?

It isn’t easy. That question – if you’re distracted long enough to think about it – puts you at a crossroad almost immediately. What was the point in holding on to something that will never belong to you? Bunga bukan sekuntum, kumbang bukan seekor. Walk away and never look back was my father’s immediate advice when he saw my brother’s pathetic condition. Leave her, be a better man and make her pine for you!

An advice so vindictive and ill-dispensed, and yet so understandable coming from a prideful man.

To stop loving was never the question. Was love so cheap and low that it should dissolve at the slightest refusal? The aching in our hearts that moves us to care, to protect and to ensure the happiness of another.. does it exist with such intensity so that we can one day entirely forget? A devotion so easily evaporated – that isn’t love. Not by any stretch of the word.

I wanted my brother to know that it’s okay to continue loving someone. To continue to care. Not so that he can live a miserable life pining and waiting. But so that he may understand that love is a blessing, disguised or otherwise. A feeling heaven-sent to teach him to cherish others other than himself. In the larger scheme of things it didn’t matter that his feelings were not returned. What mattered was that he loved.

A friend once told me that caring makes for a heavy heart. One that becomes difficult to carry. Others felt the need to empty theirs in order to let others in. And then there were those who simply shut the doors and refused all advances.

Funny, but it’s hard for me to see it quite that way. I know my heart is alive and warm only when it is filled with the people and the things I love. I can’t fathom the things I care about ever becoming a burden to me. I believe the heart has infinite space and a vast capacity to hold many things dear. I've never run out of space to let people in and stay. You can love someone. But you can love someone else, too.

When I love someone, that person becomes a part of me for always. Because to love is as much about me as it is about them. It’s about me because I’m the one who loves, regardless of the outcome. And it’s about them because when we love someone, we want what’s best for them. We want what makes them happy, even if that removes us from the picture.

So, to my brother, my answer is this: leave the door open and let them come and go. Continue to love for as long as you want to, as long as you can. Move on if you feel the need and only when the time is right. Your heart may be heavy, but it could never be something you’re not strong enough to carry.

Because to love is to gain a source of strength.

It is only right that the more you love, the stronger you’ll be.