A Subdued Ramadan

My niece Amirah Annuar. Pix taken in Perth recently where she went for a well-deserved break. We love you lots and lots, Myra!

In the not too distant past, there was always this tinge of excitement in the air each time Ramadan arrived. The blessed month always brought the family closer together.

The kids would somehow be extra attentive and caring. Perhaps it was the realisation of an approaching Syawal, thus sharing the apprehension of their (then) single mom coping alone on a shoestring budget.

I remember only too well the times when the working ones took me shopping for new clothes and raya cookies. Ramadan and Syawal spending were then kept to the barest minimum.

Those were the days soon after my company had gone bust and I was between jobs. Money was hard to come by; I could hardly afford anything on my own.

Ramadan will always be bittersweet for me. It was in Ramadan more than a decade ago, just a few days short of Hari Raya, that I was in receipt of a legal missive threatening me with bankruptcy.

It was bad enough that the PR outfit I started from scratch went under in the aftermath of the 1997 economic meltdown (here), resulting in the loss of my house to settle business debts.

Being such threatened took me to a new level of depression never before experienced. It was as though I was trapped in quicksand, and sinking fast.

I remember bawling my eyes out reading the letter, feeling helpless and in utter despair. There was then nothing left; I was on ground zero with zilch to my name.

But I had four lovely kids whom I loved with every fibre of my being, and I had Him, to Whom I held fast. I knew everything happened for a reason and my faith in Him was absolute.

Although that was the lowest ebb of my life, crawled out of the pits of despair I did. No doubt that is all history, but I have never forgotten those trying times when putting food on the table was hardship unto itself.

Thank be to Allah swt the threat of bankruptcy is no more, nor are there financial issues to clog my brain this Ramadan. I have been blessed many times over since those desperate days; Alhamdulillah syukur.

All the same, this year's Ramadan is beset with emotional turmoil. My niece Amirah, the eldest child of my sister Ana, is a sweet young lady of 25 who lost a leg to cancer five years ago.

She is now back in hospital with complications of the lungs. Despite several doses of chemotherapy, the cancer cells are back with a vengeance, ravaging her already frail body.

The prognosis isn't good, says her dad when we visited her in KLH last week. Her situation is critical and right now all we are left with are hopes and prayers.

And yesterday we paid another visit to our close friend Rahmat, recently diagnosed with lung cancer, stage four.

He was all skin and bones, very much thinner than the last time we saw him a month ago. He tried hard to speak; the words came out low, slow and raspy, but audible.

Like I said, there isn't much to be joyous about at the moment. Sorrow weighs heavily in my heart for I too feel like I am living on borrowed time..