I have to admit that the journey to Padang during the celebration of Idul Fitri 1432 H left something unpleasant in my heart. Indeed I wore a nice dress, was surrounded by my children and relatives, but their presence could not touch my heart.
My brothers are the source of my unhappiness. For such a long time I keep fear of their chaotic lives. I often pray they would be nicer and more religious by the time passes, but one week in Padang already convince me that they don’t make any progress.
The oldest one doesn’t do praying, the second one is even worst since he practices heretical religious sect and the youngest one doesn’t do either praying and fasting.
When I sit in the living room of my home in Purus, I failed to see my mom’s trace there. She was not there anymore. Mama would not be happy to see her sons like that, she would fight and argue with them but Papa has let his sons doing whatever they like. He has no energy anymore to fight.
The disappointment has killed all happiness that I should feel during Idul Fitri. I indeed cannot steer their lives. But… how can I keep silent to see them fall down into the steep ravine?
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