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Lebaran used to feel like coming home in the truest sense. The kind of warmth you didn’t have to question, the kind that just existed the moment you stepped through the door. But ever since my grandma passed away, something shifted in a way I can’t quite put back into place.
The house is still the same, the people are still there, the traditions still happen yet it all feels different. Quieter in a way that isn’t about sound, but about presence. Like a missing piece you only notice because everything else continues as if it’s still complete.
Mudik used to feel special, something I looked forward to. Now it feels more like something I do because it’s what we’ve always done. The occasion remains, the gatherings happen, but the feeling… isn’t quite the same anymore.
Maybe this is what growing up looks like… or maybe it’s what loss quietly does changing the meaning of things that once felt so certain.
Still, I come home. Not for what it used to be, but for what remains.
English
