Gone with the Fog

I just got off from a phone call with my cousin. They are in the church right now, getting ready for my grandmother's memorial service. She will buried today at noon, Jakarta's time. None of my relatives look sad anymore, but perhaps they have each other and they got to see my grandmother for the very last time. Meanwhile here, I have been pretty stressed out. My stomach was feeling really weird and all I wanted to do was eating. Memories of my grandmothers keep popping up in my vision. And it was so real since the night she passed away. Waverly was pretty foggy on Thursday and Friday evening. I happened to take a stroll around the bridge. 


The fog just suddenly reminds me of her. Her peaceful and calm-self whom I used to see the morning I woke up and the night I went back from school or internship. Her thin grey her and how soft she speaks.

The fog is now how I will feel about my grandmother. You can see the fog, but you can't touch it. I can still see my grandmother in my vision, but I can't touch her anymore. Grandma, I will always remember you when the fog comes again. 

I guess I don't have someone to blame anymore for giving me a name of "Setio Nastiti". A name that I thought was too Javanese and traditional. But that name will be name I carried for the rest of my life. A name that will be seen in newspapers and television. A name that I can proudly say now that "Eyang Uti name me Rut, Rut Setio Nastiti. Eyang, I love you so much. I wish we could see each other one more time.