Short Story: A Dignified Farewell

By Barrie | September 26th, 2007 | No Comments

Yes, it has been a while since I posted a short story by one of the many brilliant writers n Indonesia, and, I must say that I was particularly impressed with Yundi Aditya’s story entitled ‘A Dignified Farewell’. Enjoy as I did.

A Dignified Farewell
By Yundi Aditya

“I’ll be leaving soon, as we all know we must.”

“Don’t, don’t! I still need you here. We still need you.”

Her tears made the words difficult to say and difficult to be heard. But he was not crying. He was calm and restful, though not yet fully at peace.

The pain had been considerable. The illness had robbed him of strength and he was left a shadow of his former self. For months his body had fought a reflex battle against the disease that was consuming him, but now his mind had superseded his body.

After so much struggle, so much all-consuming, life-sapping fight to regain good health he had realized that it was to no avail.

He realized that the time had arrived and it was better to seek serenity. At first it was a bitter realization but then some sense of relief had set in.

Now, sitting up in his hospital bed, he knew what he must do. He placed his hand calmly on his daughter’s shoulder. Her body shook as she sobbed. She did not want to lose him and she wiped away her tears and silently appealed to him with her eyes.

He summoned up strength enough to squeeze her shoulder. She was surprised at the sudden strength he showed and blinkingly focused her eyes on his face as he began to speak in his soft tones.

“I will leave this hospital now. This is not where I want to be; not where I want to go from.” His words were momentarily cryptic to her but then she knew what he meant and called the nurse in. It was time to discharge him. He was not cured but he, and she, knew it was time to leave.

*****
The doctors objected but he was not to be dissuaded from his action. With a gentle smile he whispered in his daughter’s ear,

“They just want more money from my hospital bills but I think they have had enough already and I have had enough of their medicine.”

The delays in getting out of the hospital seemed endless and were very annoying but within two hours of calling the nurse to get the discharge process under way they had done enough and his daughter was wheeling him out of the hospital in a particularly uncomfortable wheelchair.

The light was harsh upon his eyes but with three or four blinks he had adjusted to the brightness. The car was brought around and he managed to rise from the wheelchair and slide into the front seat next to the driver. His daughter hurriedly threw bags into the back of the car and instructed the driver to take them home but her father interrupted.

“No, we’ll go to the hills. That is where I was born and that is where I shall leave.” With some astonishment she looked at him and wanted to tell him “no, and stop being so morbid” but again somehow she was able to understand him without further words.

The driver was frozen in confusion, having expected simply to be taking them home; but he was startled into action when she almost shouted at him, “Well go on then … to the hills.”

The drive was slow and uncomfortable for both driver and daughter. Rain fell heavily and visibility was poor. Headlights blazed and warning signals flashed, reminding them of how all on the road were aware of the danger of such heavy weather.

She stared at her father and stared out into the murkiness of the dwindling light of the day. Lightning flashes scared her but her father seemed at ease. The car began to climb the congested roads as they began to get nearer to Puncak Pass.

Occasionally her mind went back in time and she remembered coming here with her father and mother — feeling the cool air and running around as a child in the tea plantations. But then she was struck by a question and she uttered it out loud without even meaning to.

“Where exactly are we going to?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there,” her father replied mysteriously.

But it did not take long. He placed his hand gently on the driver’s arm and said, “Just pull over there.”

It was a small turnout with stalls that had already closed up for the night that during the day would sell light snacks and drinks for motorists who stopped at a bend in the road to look back down the hills toward Jakarta.

“But Dad, there’s nothing here!” she protested, but again he calmly responded, “No my child, everything is here. Rest your head, sleep and we’ll await the new day.”

She was physically tired and emotionally exhausted so gave in to his will, somewhat reluctantly. She stretched out across the back seat of the car and soon fell into a deep sleep that she wanted desperately to resist but could not.

*****
Dawn had already come when she awoke and her father had gone from the car. She was startled and looked around for him. The driver sat on a bench nearby the car and she furiously demanded that he tell her where her father had gone.

He simply pointed down the hill. Her eyes widened and her nose wrinkled as she began to panic but she quickly turned to look for her father.

He had not gone far: just a little way down the hillside and was sitting among the fragrant tea bushes. She scurried to his side, kicking up dust as she practically fell down the hillside; before she could speak he turned to her and said:

“This is where we met — your mother and I. We were here camping. A group of friends got together and your mother was a “friend of a friend” but as soon as we saw each other we knew — it was just natural. It was nature that brought us together.” He paused, smiled and breathed in the morning air deeply. “Now I want to be with her again.”

As he said these words his daughter bowed her head. The tears were welling up again because she knew that he meant — leave this life to be with his deceased wife, her mother, again. He almost seemed to ignore her as he continued.

“I want to go to her in dignity, my child. Just as it was natural that I met her … it was destined I think … so, too, is it natural and destined that I leave you now.”

She cried “No!” and sobbed bitterly. The quiet of the early morning on that hillside was broken by her cries. Her tears fell and mingled with the early morning dew.

“Do not fear this. This is death, understand it my love. It is from nature; it is part of our destiny. We are young, we grow old. We live, we love. I have loved. I will always love you.”

With these words he lay back on the damp ground. He took her hand and looked straight up at the sky. He smiled slowly. He breathed deeply, then gently and then he breathed his last.

The sky behind her seemed to grow brighter.

He was gone, but gone in dignity.