Gone for Good : A Memoir

Rifqah Rashifainy Sondia180410160044

Lived with seven siblings was no joke, yeah like you can imagine with your sisters or brothers, how we always fight over simple things like ; bathroom, remote, games, food, clothes. In my case, four brother and three sister, I am the middle one, the third chid where most of the time give up whatever we fight about. Luckly enough, my mother never let us fight for too long, with her one of “sacred asian mom weapon”; broom. We would ran like hell to our room when we heard the voice of broom at our back, leaving anything we fight about, that, if we lucky enough to escape, most of the time we ended up with red marks on our legs or just simply dizziness from the smacked of our head by the goddess hand of my mother, thinking about it again, we were not lucky at all.

One time, we were fighting over PS 2 with my little brother, Rafiqi Muhammad Sondia, the name should be mean ; a honest knight, and I can assure you, he is not like that at all. That fight ended up with my mother said, “I had enough, now I am leaving this house.” And left the house, We were got quiet back then, I heard my mother opened the door as I sneak to take the controler from my brothers hand, who still confused what to do. She did that a couple times, even brought her clothes in a huge bag. My brother cried and chased her when he heard the gate opened and he couldn’t hear my mother’s footstep again. As for me, of course, played my game while I could still do that peacefully, when I heard my brother’s cried even louder, I got annoyed and went to the door, only to saw him clinging on the gate while his face was covered with sweat and tears, I sighed and saw my mother in the garden, laughing her ass off, I was like, Really mom?. That is one of many times I learned that whatever happens my mother won’t ever leave us.

My older brother, the second son is the one who really resemble me the most, from face to characteristics which is why we clashed the most, Elqi Farisrasyad Sondia, the brave knight, as you can expect from my other brother, that name really doesn’t fit him at all. He always forced me to accompany him to the second floor where our bedroom was even when he does his bussiness at bathroom, well, I waited outsied of couse. Both of us were scared back then and ran down the stairs.

There was a rumor that my house is guarded by the spirit of my grandfather, it is a white tiger or something, which followed Rafi now. At first the tiger followed my grandfather, after he passed away, it followed my father, but then my father released it, told that tiger that he is free, but maybe it got bored and followed my brother.

I am not followed by anything, I don’t know wheter it is lucky or not, I would like something to followed me as well, my friends who can see told me that my house is guarded that even her or his guadian do not want to get in the house, I think it’s cool, maybe. My sisters? The one who I remember the most is the older one, Annisa Amaliandari Sopandi, and the name did not match her, she is like a boy in girl’s body, at highschool he had short hair that always silk with Gatsby and used vespa to school, where at that time was very rare for a girl to use vespa, hang out with boys and vespa’s community, like Slank songs, and the wildest girl in the house. The vespa is my mother’s from the 60’s, she named it Si putih, because its white and round. Thanks to that “rare” conditions, whenever we got pulled over by cops while riding that sacred weapon of my mom, we never got a single problem, even when we didn’t bring our license, yeah, the power of nepotism. My older sister is not kind or evil, most of the time we fight, but all I can remember of her is when she taught me math with bottle, it was subtraction and addition, she patienly taught me when I asking the same question over and over, along with moving the bottles around.

“We only have each other, that is why we should get along.” At that time I didn’t understand what she means, moths later, she went to college in Jogjakarta, it never feel the same after she left, she was the clown in the house, talk too much, annoying, and the one who bring snacks when she got home from school. We are eight years apart, but I feel like she is my friend. After she left, Elqi took the role of bring the snack after school for us, so we won’t feel lonely, in addition, he is not bad at all, even though we fight the most he always protect me from bullies at school, and confront people who annoyed me, all I have to say was “that guy is annoying, he bothers me alot yesterday.” And he will confront him the next morning.

Years later, it was his time to go to collage, the same place as my sister, in accountant field, I thought its my time to take the role as big sister, but no, one problems came after another, and my little brothers and sister grown up faster. The only thing that make us remember each other was snacks, we always remember to bring that when we went home, I was wondering if my older sister and brother still do the same. Now that my parents are not young anymore, after graduated my sister took my two little brother and one sister to Bali, the place where her and her mualaf boyfriend lived.

“We only have each other, that is why we should get along.”

It is not we anymore, there is only me and Rafi now. My parents went to Tasik for my father’s job, Elqi works at Mandiri with my father, my sister works in Bali with her boyfriend, me at Unpad, Rafi in High school, Satria and Athalia in Elementary school, Bimbim is still too young to even mentioned here, but he is cute, so I have to, he is still struggling to run. We are busy with our life, and I can count it with one hand the times when all of us really together, like old times.

Now that I am alone at this house, I can still recall times when we fight over who got to the bathroom first where now I can enter freely, who eat whose food in the fridge, where now sometimes I throw the food away because it stayed too long, the very loud speaker from my sister room that I always annoyed of, where now full of dust, and last, the stairs where four of us took a picture. It is as if they are gone, and only the memories remain. Now I understand what my sister said, all those fight matters, all those little things she taught me matters, all those names who didn’t match us at first slowly get in us like prayers.

Word Count : 1.234

Illustration by Monica Garwood

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