"Always keep dignity and be true to yourself" Marjane Satrapi's grandma told her on the night before she left Tehran. It was a kind of my moment of truth out of the whole book. The sentence was indeed for me too, but it is the scene: sleeping with her grand mother that really stroke me.
I used to specially request to sleep with my grandma too every time I visited Kediri, a little town in East Java where I was born (hometown of my mother). Nobody would argue anyway, except perhaps my youngest cousin the only one who obviously sleeps with her every now and then (my grandma lived with my aunt's family until she died) since she said grandma's room was cooler and that she would always fan her to keep mosquitoes away. That's how nice our grandma was. Grandma lost her sight due to something I wasn't sure, but nothing really changed about her. I used to pray hard everyday for her to gain back her sight, but it was never recovered until she died. Before she lost the sight, she used to run a shop in a traditional market where we sold apparel products (it's in a traditional market, so nothing really fancy) . Before that, our big family had a small home industry where we made sarongs, and we sold the products in the shop. I used to go with her in becak (tricycle) when I was still so small (kindergarten), I couldn't remember it clearly but the splendid feeling was never gone.
When she lost the sight I couldn't really tell how she felt, because I was still small (and probably my empathy and sensitivity senses were not completely developed yet) and I was already moved to Solo, and only saw her every holiday. But I really prayed for her five times a day or more. I didn't know why it affected me so badly, her losing sight. To me then, it was like the most horrible thing to happen. Then gradually I realized she wasn't that much affected herself, she still laughed and sang (those slow-calming Javanese songs), and was all the way talkative. She would always commented or responded to any conversation she heard, sometimes it made my aunt (her youngest child who took care of her) irritated, well I notice that's the way old people do, always want to get involve in everything. But it really amused me though, I loved her so much naturally. When I was in a relationship with a guy for the first time in my life, it's her whom I told first. She was more attentive than my mother. I had difficulty to discuss my most personal business, i.e. love life to any member of my family (I couldn't figured out why it's never easy to talk about love and romance in my family). Therefore, I couldn't really tell why I got to tell it to my grand mother. I couldn't quite remember now how the discussion was, but I knew I would really remember that it is her, my favorite secret keeper.
When she died, I was already a big girl and working. I literally stumbled and fell down on something I couldn't really remember now (not fainting and all, just sort of losing balance for a second or two), and cried all the way to get home early. That was the first sad moment I experienced of losing someone whom I really love. I didn't attend the funeral though since at that time plane was not a simple luxury. By train surely I wouldn't catch the moment anyway.
She died suddenly, fell down while she just finished her morning shower. It was not an accident I believe, since as a blind person she knew by heart her ways around the house, she must have lost her balance or consciousness or something. She died without pain I believe, and she died on a friday, a day that is believed to be the holiest day in my religion.
