Several nights passed in unbreakable silence between me and Madam Hera. But that night, there were only the two of us still awake in our narrow cell, and I felt a strong urge to open a conversation.
The news in the shabby newspaper a few days ago was still fresh in my mind, and from the whispers of fellow inmates, gossip about Madam Hera's past began to spread. I knew this might be the only chance to ask, to finally express my thoughts that had been suppressed all this time, and maybe, if she was willing, to hear the truth from her own perspective.
"Assalamualaikum, Ma'am," I said softly, hoping to open a peaceful conversation. "A few days ago, I read something on newspaper, there was a story about you, about .... the reasons behind your corruption and legal manipulation that you have done. Is it true, that losing Doni and ... the feeling of revenge towards me is the reason behind everything?" I asked softly, trying to understand.
"Ma'am, I've tried to explain, I'm innocent! But if you still don't believe me, still hold a grudge, still feel hurt towards me ... I'm willing if you wanna kill me." I took a deep breath, trying to gather the remaining courage. "After all, I'm already a lifer convict who will die on this island. No one care about me when ever i had gone." I felt a little relieved to have said that.
Madam Hera stared at me deeply, her expression unpredictable. For a few moments, she didn't reply, neither confirming nor denying what I said. The silence that ensued felt so thick and heavy, until finally she took a deep breath and began to speak, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
Madam Hera was silent for a moment, neither confirming nor denying my words. Slowly, she started sharing. "Doni is the only child I have," she said, her voice shaking. "I loved him so much with all my heart. Losing him... it felt like my life was ending. Then three years ago, my husband left too. He... lost his battle with cancer." Her eyes were dreamy, as if he was delving into memories that seemed like they just happened yesterday.
"I attended the funeral of someone I really loved twice," she said again in a hollow tone. "And now... I really feel alone. The people around me only offer meager condolences, offering help that never really means anything. They will never understand how it feels." Madam Hera took a deep breath, then swept her hands over her face, as if she wanted to wipe away the wounds that continued to scar.
Silence enveloped us, but somehow the silence felt different, full of understanding that grew little by little. I dared myself to ask, even though I knew the answer might not change anything. "Mom, if only I could turn back time..."
Madam Hera turned to me, her eyes were no longer as cold as before. She nodded slowly, then said, "You already know, there are many things in life that can never be returned." She looked at me with a softer expression. "But if your story is the truth. Maybe this is our only chance to truly understand each other." "I will start to believe you, and if you are innocent, what is there to forgive, I will apologize to you instead."
I looked at Madam Hera who was sitting at the end of the bed. "Mom, I know it's difficult, even impossible, to change what you think, you feel, about me all this time. But, if you like, I want to tell you a little..."
He nodded, her eyes no longer as cold as usual. "Please, I'm listening."
I take a deep breath. "I was happy, Mom, once, and maybe my life had meaning. I was smart enough to get into a good school—and that's where I met Doni Hermawan, Mom's favorite son." I smiled a little, even though twelve years had passed, the memories of my handsome boyfriend were still warm. "Our relationship is good, ma'am. I think, even though I only come from an ordinary family, Doni really accepted me. That was a happy time for me."
"But after... that incident, it all ended. I was locked up on this prison island and realized how far away my own family was. It had been years without hearing from them, without anyone caring about me anymore. I was lonely in the midst of this crowded prison. "
Madam Hera looked at me with new eyes. "Our lives may be different, but the pain is the same," he answered. "I struggled with my grief in the wrong way. I used power to seek revenge, and that made me lose my way. Now I feel trapped in endless regret."
I felt an emotional vibration between us, as if the fabric of our lives separated by prison walls was starting to find common ground. "I'm also trying to overcome my sadness, Mom. Every night, I wonder what went wrong. Did I choose the wrong path? Is everything that happened really fate?"
"Sometimes, we can't understand what happens behind the decisions we make in life," said Madam Hera wisely. "All we can do is learn from this experience. Maybe there are lessons we can take from this pain."
"Lesson?" I repeated the word. "But, Mom, what if the lesson feels too painful to understand?"
"Every wound will heal with time, although it may never completely disappear," he answered wisely. "And in that healing process, we can discover new strengths that we didn't know existed within us."
I lowered my head, contemplating every word that came out of her mouth. In my heart, there is a feeling of hope that is starting to grow, even though it is small. "What can we do to start that process, Mom?"
We both fell silent again, but this time in a silence that was no longer oppressive. Sitting on that silent night, behind the cold prison walls, we shared stories that had been hidden in our hearts, bringing a little light to wounds that had long been hidden.
Lonely life
At that moment, I remembered the sad moments of losing a loved one, apart from my tears when I found out about Doni's death.
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The sad news arrived when I had just served two years on this island. It was in the afternoon, when we were busy working in the chicken coop. Suddenly, an officer called me. "Sarah, you can go to the corner of the yard for a moment, there's an important call," he said briefly but seriously.
I walked after the officer, my heart was full of foreboding. Reaching a quiet corner of the yard, he handed me a phone, my hand shook as I grabbed it. She was standing not far from me, watching silently as part of the prison's humanitarian program, which gives inmates a chance to stay connected with family in emergency situations.
My heart was beating fast, my mind was filled with bad images. "Hello, peace be upon you?" I said in a trembling voice.
On the other end of the phone, the heavy voices of my family, my sister answered. "Sis, Inalilahi wa inalilahi rojiun," my heart was beating fast. "We... want to inform you that Our mother passed away last night. She had a heart attack, now we are preparing for the funeral." Hearing the news, my body felt weak. Even though I've been locked up for years, the pain of losing someone I love remains sharp, as if it hasn't diminished in the slightest.
I took a deep breath, "inalillahi wainailaihi rojiun" I tried to stay calm, tears flowed without me realizing it. "Thanks… for telling me," I said in a strangled voice. "I know... I couldn't be there, but I'm still grateful to be able to hear this news directly from you."
"We have coordinated with the prison," continued my sister's voice from the other side, "Sister, later you will be allowed to say goodbye via video call."
I could only nod even though they couldn't see me, my eyes were filled with tears that I was trying to hold back. It feels like the warmth of life that I miss so much is now even further away.
The officer next to me kept her distance, but I knew he heard everything. She didn't say a word, but her eyes were full of understanding. His presence reminded me that beneath the strict rules of this prison, there was still a tiny sliver of humanity allowed—a glimpse of life out there, a life that went on without me.
Before hanging up the phone, I tried to gather the courage to say the last words. "Say hello to Dad... I love him, I miss him and I... I'm sorry for all this," I said while trying to hold back sobs.
When the call ended, I held it tightly for a moment before handing it back to the officer. "Thank you..." I said softly to the officer, who just nodded with a look full of empathy.
It was only through a video call that I saw my mother's face for the last time.
When the phone was disconnected, I could only feel a deep emptiness, a frozen silence in the middle of a room full of small noises in this prison. In that silence, I remembered my mother's face, her voice, the warmth of her embrace which I don't know when was the last time I felt. All these memories flooded into my mind, bringing immeasurable pain. I sobbed softly, my tears flowed without being able to hold them back.
Not long after, a female officer who recognized me approached. From the look on her face, it could be seen that he had heard the news.
"Sarah, are you okay?" She asked softly, her voice filled with empathy. "I heard the news about your mother. I'm... sorry to hear that."
I nodded weakly, feeling too broken for words. But finally, with a shaky voice, I said, "Thank you. I… I knew this would happen, but this to quick, I never thought I would have to face it here. I feel… I want to go home, even though I know it's impossible."
The officer sat next to me, trying to give me some comfort in the silence we shared. "I can't imagine how hard this is for you. But maybe you can find a way to celebrate your mother's life, here… within limits." She was silent for a moment, looking at me with gentle eyes. "Sometimes, the memories of the people we love are nowhere but in our hearts, Sarah."
I nodded, her words really touched something deep in my heart. "In the past, when I was little, Mom often hugged me until I fell asleep in her lap. It felt safe… comfortable… like nothing could hurt me. Now, I'm here, and mom… mom is no longer there."
The officer took a deep breath, her eyes full of understanding. "The feeling of loss is not easy, especially if we can't be there at the last moment. But maybe... you can still send your prayers and love to her. Your mother definitely knows, Sarah. All parents know how much their children love them, even though they may not we can say or show."
Officer words were comforting, like a blanket covering an open wound. I felt a little stronger, although the pain was still intense.
"I just hope… I can apologize to Mom directly," I muttered. "All this time, I felt like I disappointed her. Everything I did, the mistakes I made… I don't know if mom can still forgive me."
The officer smiled slightly, patting my shoulder gently. "Sarah, a mother, always knows how hard her child struggles. Believe me, there... your mother forgave you a long time ago. Sometimes, we just need to forgive ourselves."
The tears that previously only flowed slowly, now I can no longer hold back. Like the air of love you give, I can't repay it, Mother. I'm sorry I have disappointed you. In my heart, I mourn this loss wholeheartedly, with prayers that I leave in the sky that I don't know when I can interpret it again.
The officer remained beside me, letting me vent all the sadness that had been bottled up for years. Maybe I can't be there when mom is gone, but here, in this prison of sorrow and silence, I know I'm not alone.
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I tried to hold on to that moment—a glimpse of a memory that I could hold onto before being swallowed up again by the walls of this prison. Every second feels precious, like grains of sand slowly flowing between my fingers. Memories of the beautiful past, when life was still full of hope and love, now seem to be just a faint shadow in the midst of the darkness of my life now.
Since my mother's death, my family has never contacted me to share news. Every week I hope there is a piece of news that can make me feel like I have someone who still cares, who is still attached to me. However, in reality, my father and my sister had probably forgotten about me, leaving me alone in this prison.
"Why don't they ever contact me again ??" I wondered in solitude, trying to find answers among the shadows of the past.
The image of my mother's face flashed in my mind. She is always present with her gentle smile, spreading love and affection around him. "Mother, what should I do now? Do I have to keep hoping they will remember me one day?" I thought to myself, hoping there would be an answer even if it was only in the imagination.
"Maybe they've forgotten me, or maybe it hurts too much for them to remember that I'm here."My mind kept spinning, thinking about various possibilities which only added to the sadness.
In the midst of the silence of the cell, I heard the sound of the clock ticking which seemed to mock me. "Time passes, and I'm still here, trapped in prison and haunting memories." The sound of the tired prisoners' breathing could be heard faintly, as the guards' footsteps were getting further away.
"Am I really alone? Doesn't anyone still care about me?" This feeling of loneliness is like a deepening abyss, swallowing me slowly. The darkness of the night is getting thicker, as if merging with the sadness I feel.
"Is there hope for a better future? Or will I just continue to be trapped in this cycle, with no way out?"I felt tears well up in the corners of my eyes, but I held them back, trying to stay strong even though my heart was fragile.
"My brother, my father, where are you now? Are you guys happy?" That question kept haunting my mind. I tried to imagine their faces, their smiles, but there was only emptiness.
"Maybe, someday, they will remember me. Perhaps, they will send word, and give me new hope." I tried to calm myself with a small hope that might just be an illusion, but it
was enough to give me a reason to hold on one more day.