Dearest buddy…

Rest in peace:
Widyayoshita Sumadio
Jakarta, 21 Sept. 2015 15.55 (UTC/GMT+7)

—

You’re gone. You really are gone. After 44 years of friendship, you finally leave me. How could you be so sure that I would manage to live my life all by myself? Who would lift me up now when I’m down? How would I call you out for support when I’m broken?

You’re gone. You really are gone. And I wonder. Do you know that my heart sank since few months ago, the first time I heard that your long-time asthma and skin problems were recently detected as a combination of rare disease Churg Strauss and Sjögren-Larsson syndrome? Do you know that I had been crying this past week, since you said you had been ‘dating’ the O2-tube quite ‘intimately’? Do you know that I was mad for your stubbornness to just keep staying at home alone, and for your pride to never ever screaming for help? Do you know how relieved I was when you finally decided to go to the hospital? Do you know how heavy I cried again these last two days, learning that you only had 20% O2 in your blood while your lung was full of CO2?

Now you’re gone. You really are gone. And I realize. That my sleepless night the last three weeks was connected to you, as I had a blissful sleep just last night. Yes, last night. When I finally accepted it. That your disease had no cure after all. That deep inside, with all the pain that you must endure, you might actually just prefer to go, leaving whatever and whoever you had in life. And that it was indeed better for you to go. I recalled what you said the last time, “Death is the responsibility of the living. The dead will just be dead. The most inconvenient part is when you trouble others while you’re still breathing.”

So you’re gone. You really are gone. Leaving all the plans we aimed together: establishing an elderly housing in the village far from the hustle-bustle of Jakarta, building a library for villagers nearby, going on a Carribean trip, spending the year-end get-together friendship by the rice-field, and else that I now feel too stifled to remember.

You’re gone. You really are gone. But you know something… as I believe you would agree… instead of mourning your passing, I choose to celebrate the good life we enjoyed, to cheer for the accomplishments we both achieved, and to praise for the friendship we owned.

So long, buddy. I know you’re happy up there. And I bet it was your father picking you up. Please find my father when it’s time for me, too. ’Til we meet again, buddy. Love you. Always. And as you said, “No matter what.”

Stockholm, 21 Sept. 2015

In tears, prayers and loneliness,
/nung,-