Two weeks ago, I officially moved out of my parents’ place in Woodlands and into my in-laws’ in Pasir Ris to make way for my now married brother and his wife — Alhamdulillah they were safely solemnised last Saturday!
I didn’t take leave from work to pack, so I had to do it gradually in the weeks leading up to the move. At the same time my brother was also moving in his stuff bit by bit, slowly transforming my room of 16 years into his. I had already started to feel a bit sad and sentimental then, but nothing could prepare me for the actual move. Seeing the movers take away my stuff from the house, I felt helpless. I didn’t want to move, but it was something that simply had to be done — a rite of passage, if you will.
All too soon, the movers were done packing my stuff into the vehicle and it was time to say goodbye (God, I’m getting teary-eyed recounting this!). I sat on the sofa, asked my mother to sit down beside me, and rested my head on her shoulder like I always do when we watch TV. I hadn’t even spoken a complete sentence when the floodgates burst. I took her hand in mine and in between sobs, thanked her for everything. I asked for forgiveness and asked her to make halal everything that I’ve ever taken from her and from the house. After hugging her long and hard, I sat down and did the same with my dad, followed by my sister and brother. I went to find my cats Meow and Ashley to stroke and hug them, and cried even harder upon seeing their cute faces. Oh, how I was going to miss each and every one of them!
My sister told me not to cry, that Singapore is small and that I can visit any time, and I know this to be true but the point was that I was no longer a member of the household — my 28-year membership was over. The point was that I would no longer see or be around my immediate family everyday, and that was probably the thing that made me the saddest. The point was that the move was overwhelmingly symbolic of the events to come in my life — a big looming monster of both challenge and opportunity, for which I had to close this door in order to open a new one. The point was it was all scary as much as it was exciting.
For the next few days I felt displaced and empty, like a huge chunk was missing from my life. I cried on the way back to my in-laws’. I cried myself to sleep. I cried the next morning. I cried again at night. It felt like my time with my family was a person who had died and I was mourning her death. It was literally one of the saddest days of my life.
Thankfully my in-laws and husband have been nothing short of accommodating, and have been so kind, making sure I’m settled in well. Also, I had my brother’s wedding to take my mind off things, so fortunately the sadness didn’t last all that long. I don’t have a room at my parents’ place anymore, but I’ll still try to sleep over whenever I can so that I don’t give myself a chance to miss them and fall into another bout of melancholy.
Anyway, on to happy stuff! Some pics of my brother’s wedding at An-Nahdhah mosque in Bishan:
Their entire wedding, from the Nikah to the reception was held at An-Nahdhah, and it was simple and fuss-free. The combined wedding of about 900 guests — which the mosque was able to accommodate comfortably — was split into two areas: the area outside the musollah on Level 1, and a room on Level 3. A venue to consider if you’re looking for a mosque wedding!
Zul and Huda, I wish you all the best as you embark on your journey as husband and wife. I’ve only been married for a year, so I don’t think I’m in a position to dish out marriage advice, but hey, we can learn together!
May your marriage and love last till Jannah, insyaAllah.
Faz and I have been married for two months now, can you believe it? It feels like our wedding was just like, last weekend or something. At the rate time is passing us by, we’ll be old and wrinkly in the blink of an eye!
Back when I was still a singleton, something annoying I’d admittedly ask my newly-wed friends despite knowing they probably get asked this a million times is: “How does it feel to be married?”
Now that I’m married, I finally get to answer my own question and I’m going to start off by saying IT FEELS GREAT!
I hope it’s not just the honeymoon period talking, but there’s just so much love!
And the love is just different. The moment our nikah was pronounced sah, I could already feel that it was different. It felt so much bigger and pure, now that we were bound Islamically. And that love gives you a kind of joy you’ve never experienced.
We’re still getting used to the new status, or rather, to being labelled “husband and wife”, though. Just the other day when we were buying food, a friendly makcik next to us in the queue asked if we were “suami isteri” and guess what….for a moment we were dumbfounded! It was only after two seconds that I managed to grasp her question and tell her, albeit shyly, that we were indeed “suami isteri”!
I’m quite amused though — prior to marriage, no one ever thought we were a married couple. Was the makcik just being random? Did she have some sort of sixth sense? Or was she just observant enough to notice the fading henna on my fingernails? (Beli makan pun sempat tengok kuku orang, eh makcik…..)
Our living arrangement has worked perfectly so far — it’s allowed us to explore and understand each other’s deeper idiosyncrasies and family culture, as well as transition into our new roles as husband and wife at our own comfortable pace. Nothing feels forced, and I think perhaps that’s one of the main reasons why we’re enjoying it so much.
At first it was pretty troublesome, having to lug big bags of clothes and toiletries to each others’ places, but we now have the necessities and extra clothing in place to survive a spontaneous sleepover (there is no schedule because Faz works shifts and has a new roster every two weeks). Once I went to work in new clothes from head to toe — which I of course didn’t mind the slightest bit — just because of this spontaneous decision!
I know it sounds cliché, but one of the things I really enjoy since entering marriage is waking up to find him next to me. Anyone who knows me knows I’m really not the mushy type — and in fact as someone who values her personal space, at first I was even worried that I’d find it stifling to share my bed with another person! But I’ve come to discover that it is the most comforting feeling to be unconscious the entire night and then in the morning opening your eyes to find that the person you love is still there, right by your side. And it gives you sort of a zest to start off your day — something I definitely didn’t get waking up alone.
I also love that we’re delving deeper into each other, discovering things we wouldn’t have otherwise known about each other if we hadn’t gotten married. I look forward even to the less desirable discoveries (like bad habits, which I shamefully have more of as it turns out, by the way) because all these discoveries, whether positive or negative, will help us manage each others’ expectations prior to moving in together.
Speaking of bad habits, the pressure of having “someone new” in the house has managed to eliminate some of them — permanently, I hope! Although I say nothing feels forced, there’s still a natural pressure that will make you think twice before committing the crime. It’s the same pressure you get when inviting someone over for the first time — you want to make a good impression and give them an experience.
Usually the governing thought for me would be “Do you want him to regret marrying you?” and then if I feel it’s not worth him leaving me, I’ll try not to do it. LOL. But really, I’m just trying to make a conscious effort to keep him happy.
And I think realising this may be making me a better daughter as well. How, you ask?
Well, my conscience starts questioning me why I haven’t made the same efforts to please my parents, whom I also love dearly. I’ve strived to become a better daughter many times in my life, but nothing has given me the quite the same perspective on this as my new experience as a wife has, and I hope it’s more effective as well! It’s probably still not apparent to them yet, but I do find myself trying to please them more (by doing little things like helping out more around the house or by simply keeping bad habits in check).
And I hope to keep this up because I realise I’ll have increasingly lesser opportunities to please them after I leave the nest.
Hope everyone’s been having a ball of a time. I, on the other hand, have seen better days. I developed a throbbing headache a day before Eid, and it went on for a couple of days! I suspect I may have taken the spring-cleaning a bit too far. I took a week’s leave from work the last week of Ramadhan to help prepare the house for Eid. I didn’t think it would actually take a whole week, but it did.
My parents are such hoarders! The amount of stuff they’ve amassed over the last 28 years is just….unbelievable. It’s a challenge to convince them to throw stuff away. Sure, these things cost them money but if they’re just sitting there and eating into living space, then I think it’s just better to pass them on, seriously.
But it’s a lesson learnt. When Faz and I get our own place, I’ll make it a point to buy only the things we need. And if I want to buy something new, something old has to go. It’s the only way I can think of to prevent stuff from accumulating.
On the topic of Eid, I really enjoy looking at my Facebook timeline during this period. I love how colourful it is! It’s endearing to see people making an effort to dress up in Malay garb (polka dots seem to be in trend this year) and unite with family and friends over good food.
I must be under some sort of spell because for the first time in my life, I did not buy a single piece of clothing or accessory for Eid this year. Hell, I didn’t even set foot in Geylang to get the customary dengdeng and Ramly burger! Instead of buying our raya goodies like we always do, I also convinced my mom that we could bake them. Seriously, this is a breakthrough for me because I’ve never been thrifty type. Boyfriend, if you’re reading this, you should be proud because this illustrates my level of commitment! My hope is that one day I’ll finally be able to fully internalise thrifty living, making it a principle of life. Very tough to do, though.
What I’m NOT proud of is….that Project Wedding Body has taken a backseat! Instead of taking advantage of Ramadhan to lose weight, I took the bloody backseat. I’m very, very, VERY disappointed in myself. It’s such a waste because I was doing so well before. I’m back at square one now, having to work hard to build up my stamina — again. Especially after all the sugary stuff I’ve been eating. PFFT.
To make things worse, I totally forgot that the 10km Safra Bay Run that I had signed up for is on 9 September! That’s in two bloody weeks. And the 6km Yellow Ribbon Prison Run is just the week after. I thought I had a couple more months to go! I’m so dead.
Looks like I’ll have to redeem myself during the Great Eastern Women’s 10k in November. NO EXCUSES.
It finally went down last Wednesday on the 11th of May 2011.
He fetched me from work and we headed to Earle Swensen’s Changi Airport, Terminal 3 where it was the….
….MEET THE PARENTS SESSION!
Or the Ask-for-your-daughter’s-hand-in-marriage session, if you will.
We’d made an appointment with my parents earlier, but our plans were thwarted by the boyfriend coming down with a case shingles on the very same day! What are the odds, right? It had probably developed days before but he only discovered a patch on his back a mere one hour before he was to meet my parents.
I was pretty bummed that we had to reschedule it, and not to mention the fact that I couldn’t see him for two whole weeks!
He was so paranoid that my parents would think he had cold feet that he sent me a picture of his shingles to show them. Ugh, not a pretty sight I tell you.
Anyway it wasn’t the first time he met my parents, but it wasn’t the millionth time either. Although we’ve been together for almost 8 years, I can probably count their meetings with one hand — and that was how we intended it.
He asked for my parents’ blessings on the journey that we were going to embark on, and showed them the engagement ring he bought me. We also shared with them the plans we’ve carved out for ourselves and our visions for the future.
All in all, it went fantastic. Both my mom and dad were nice to him, and he, handled everything pretty smoothly for someone who was nervous. I know I could never handle it as well as he did if I were in his position, given the ginormous bundle of nerves that I am. My dad did catch him off-guard with a few questions like “So what do you like about my daughter? List ten reasons” and “What do you see in marriage?“, but he somehow managed it. My parents did well too, first-timers in this business of meeting future sons- and daughters-in-law.
Besides the “interview”, my parents mostly gave us advice on marriage and bringing up a family — issues that we’re bound to come across in the near- and long-term.
After everything was over (or rather, had just begun ;p), I asked my parents what they think of my choice of a husband-to-be. They said they trusted him to be the one to take care of me because of the level of responsibility and dedication he has toward his own family. Him being a nurse was also a plus point because it showed my parents he was someone with a compassionate nature.
My dad even remarked that “it would be good to have him as a son”, to which I almost teared. I feel so blessed that they approve of him.
Dear God, please smoothen our journey from here on out.