"The sea closes its doors, the house no longer greets you"
In the past, Farid was a marine officer who always came home carrying salty waves behind his smile. The ocean is a second home for him, a place where he mingle with storms and limitless skies. However, during Ramadan a few years ago, everything changed.
Slowly his burly body groaned. Incessant coughing, shivering fever at night. Until the verdict came like a sea storm called TB.
The dominoes of Farid's life begin to fall. The ship on which he depends his life no longer provides space.
"Sorry, Farid. You have to go down. The risk is too great," said the captain with a look of pity that couldn't help.
In one voyage, Farid lost his uniform, rank, and the sea he loved.
It turns out the loss didn't stop at the pier. His wife, Rina, filed for divorce, taking custody of their only child with them. His son, who used to ask for stories about waves every night, now he can only see through old photos on a cracked cell phone. The family moved away, the neighbors remained silent, as if Farid's cough could be transmitted through his gaze.
Ramadan is the quietest Ramadan. There is no sahur together, there is no small voice that wakes us up for tarawih. Only the sound of the clock ticking and coughing echoed in the narrow rented room, so friends broke the fast. Only cold walls accompany him, only silence answers his every prayer.
In the midst of the destruction, only his mother remained. The woman who rubbed his head like when he was a child, whispered softly, "No matter how serious your illness is, you are still my child."
In his mother's arms, Farid found the strength he had almost forgotten. He struggled through treatment, underwent therapy, swallowed medication every day with discipline even though his body felt weak. Every spoonful of medicine is hope, every breath is resistance. He looked at his reflection in the mirror—his face haggard, his eyes sunken, but there was still a sailor who refused to drown.
Days passed, and slowly, his health improved. Six months full of struggle, and finally the doctor declared him cured. However, the wound in his heart had not fully recovered.
With new enthusiasm, Farid began to rebuild his life. He no longer goes to sea, but chooses to run a business buying and selling used cars. From a marine officer, he turned into a businessman. One by one the wheels of life moved again, but there was one thing that remained in the dock of memories: Aisyah.
Every night, he looked at the small photo of his daughter kept in his wallet. His fingers traced that tiny face, as if he wanted to feel the long-lost warmth.
"Daddy is fine, son," he whispered hopefully. "Dad is waiting for you."
Like the sea that always waits for the morning after a storm, Farid believes, maybe later... there will be a time when he can return again. Whether to the sea, whether in the arms of his child, or just to himself.
*The broadcast of this story has received approval from Farid
