Falling Away

I fall away while the world keeps scrolling.

“Oooo Mak… Saripuddin wants to ask, why did that leaf fall?” Saripuddin asked as he stared at the ketapang tree in front of the house. Mak Saripuddin glanced over. “Who knows? Maybe it's stressed from watching you sit around brooding all day.”

Saripuddin flinched. “Mak, even the leaves have to get dragged into this?” Mak Saripuddin went on folding the laundry. “If even a leaf can fall from boredom, imagine how Jamilah must've felt.” Saripuddin fell silent at once. That one landed right between the eyes.

Jamilah used to love the rain. She said it was a kind of blessing. But to Saripuddin, rain was only somewhere to hide his tears. Ever since Jamilah left without a word, Saripuddin's life had felt like a video paused halfway through. Everyone else kept playing. Saripuddin remained stuck.

Farha came by almost every evening, bringing kuih and empty chatter. “Saripuddin, I stared at your post for five minutes, then scrolled back up because I thought my connection had frozen.” Saripuddin pouted. “Why?” Farha grinned. “Not a single like. I thought Facebook had banned you for excessive sadness.”

Saripuddin gave a quiet laugh. “Let it be. The world keeps scrolling, Farha. Everyone else is busy living. I'm busy forgetting.” Farha tried to smile, but the sympathy was plain in her eyes. She knew Saripuddin hadn't let go. Hadn't made peace with it.

That night, the rain came. One by one, leaves fell across the yard. In his room, Saripuddin opened the old folder again. A photograph of Jamilah smiling under an umbrella, a fallen leaf resting on her shoulder. “Jamilah… if I can survive the seasons, I'll survive all of this for you.”

But the seasons kept changing. The photograph remained frozen. Saripuddin wept quietly. Only the fan bore witness.

A few weeks later, Mak Saripuddin fell ill. As he waited in silence for medicine at the clinic, Farha came again. This time, without kuih. “Saripuddin, not everything in life needs attention. Sometimes what matters is that we can still feel.”

Saripuddin lowered his head. “I'm only afraid the feeling will disappear.” Farha gave him a crooked smile. “If it's truly love, Saripuddin, it won't disappear. It will only change its shape.”

The sky had wept on the day Jamilah was buried. Now the sky was clear, but Saripuddin still carried his own rain. This time, however, when a leaf landed at his feet, Saripuddin bent down, picked it up gently, and placed it inside his notebook. Let time crumble across his brow; the memory would not die.

Saripuddin wrote a new status. “I fall away while the world keeps scrolling. But I'm still here, counting what never ends.”

And this time, although no one pressed like… Saripuddin smiled. Because for the first time, he felt that it was enough.