Daddy, Can You Compile All My Artwork Please
By Johan Ishak
1 February 2024
IAN ZUHAYR's demise breaks my heart significantly. My ten year old son who could have been twelve now. How I wish I can use the words "broke my heart" in that first sentence but I cannot. It can never be a past tense. Hence, I embarked on a journey to live and coexist with that melancholy. As they say, "misery loves company".
One method that I use to neutralise sadness of Ian's demise is to keep on thinking about him by looking at stuff associated to him frequently; like, going to KLPAC Sentul where Ian had his last outing with me and his brothers, photos (also as the wallpaper to my phone), videos and going to the old house where Ian grew up from the age of two to ten.
Ian used to give me his drawings of Godzilla and I can still remember vividly that he said, "Daddy, can you compile all my artwork please". So, naturally, another method of thinking about Ian is to look through his drawings that I still keep.
One of my artwork for my solo show 'Pandamonium' at KLPAC Sentul is a caricature of 'Panda-ian' that has found its place on my room wall where I can stare at it from my bed. I have a mug with Ian's face on it on my table in my room. I visit Ian's grave a lot too. It is still fresh in my memory, the moments when I washed (mandi jenazah) Ian's body before his burial. It is also fresh in my memory, the moments when I observed Ian's vital medical equipment monitor (whatever it is called) in the hospital that showed a declining trend until it became a straight line.
I also sought and continue to seek divine intervention by praying for Ian's happiness in the afterlife with his late grandfather, Tok, after each Muslim periodic daily prayer. I imagine them holding hands walking towards the horizon of an amberdawn sunrise. God must have a plan to have taken away the boy that I produced and the man who produced me in a short space of three months (25 April 2022 and 21 July 2022 respectively).
I used to force myself to just cry alone at night before sleeping by remembering him. In the morning, forcing myself to remember Ian helps wake me up too. The best method is to talk and hug Ian's younger brother, Emil, a lot because Emil reminds me of Ian. Emil even smells like Ian. Amazing.
Soon afterwards, around the time I was at Haj in Mekkah (when I can see many chubby Turkmenistan boys who look like Ian), I had become used to Ian's absence in my life, so much so that I had absorbed the sadness to become accustomed to it. I even sat down with Datuk Izham Omar (a song composer) and Haze (a new singer) composing a song on Ian for Haze to sing entitled Zuhayrku Yang Tidur.
Like the Malay saying, "Alah bisa tegal biasa" or the Malay word, "lali"; the more you explore a particular matter, the stronger you are at it. This has helped me to continue to live and in time, I hope to live like a normal person where the sadness of the lost of family members will only become sweet memories of them. For this, I ought to say thank you to Ian for his request, "Daddy, Can You Compile All My Artwork Please".
Berita 7:57 of Awesome TV news report on Ian's demise due to Multisystem Inflamatory Syndrome for Children (MIS-C), a post-COVID19 condition.
Ian's last outing with his siblings, Daniel and Emil, at KLPAC Sentul where they viewed my solo art show entitled Caricreatures Return.
Ian's last Hari Raya photograph with his siblings, Daniel and Emil.
Ian's last photograph of him alive.
Al-Fatihah
0 comments