Roll On: About a t-shirt

Mak was a small lady. She was shorter than me, heck, by time, she would be shorter than all of us. She was very thin at her young age that I wonder hard why only Natrah got that. She gets chubby after the seven of us. She was our very own chubby little mak with the most outstanding strength.

Mak for me is the very own symbol of strength.

She is a primary school teacher where they have new sport t-shirt practically every year for god knows why. At that time, the idea of muslimah tshirt cease non existence. Mak compensate with having shirt of twice or even thrice her size. It gives the illusion of muslimah tshirt. But as i say before, she has small figure. So the length and width of the sleeve was of awkward but she looks cute nonetheless. She has it compensated by having the sleeve altered. Instead of cutting it off, she sew it.

What i don't realize is that, when i have the stitches out, her shirt fits me well. Cause apparently, the oversize of her is my size. Cliche.

Reading the school name on the shirt was a bit nostalgic. Remembering her in the shirt was beautiful. Hurtful. But beautiful. I remembered her among her students. Among her friends. The hectic morning we prepared for school and the sunny noon waiting for her to back home. The lunch we spent at those homey warung and her effort to balance on caring for us with her own teaching work. Most importantly, is her smile.

When she gets so ill, the hardest thing is seeing no hope. I thought that is the hardest thing. It isn't. The hardest was when she smile. The smile that promised there is hope.

So little that i realize i has almost forgetten how those smiles feel. I had myself taken aback when i went on to repair her tshirt . i ripped it a little on removing her stitches. How ashamed if she has chosen to cut it off at the first place.

It's hard to lose when we only learn the true meaning of losing when we actually lose. The guilt, remorse, miss.

The knowingness that none will ever replace it.