©Aji Pambudi

She gripped my hand. So tight. She stared into my eyes and tried to get her consciousness back.

Fifteen minutes later, she was busy recalling her memory of the last hour while I was trying to be grateful for the fact that her brain condition didn't turn her into someone else. She is still a good friend that went on an adventure from Dieng Plateau to Parangtritis with me many years ago. A strong woman who faces her terminal illness without losing her sense of humor.

After departing from her home, I visited two guys that have worked with me for years back in Jakarta - and I found they had changed. They are mature men now, being the backbone of the family or taking steps to be in a serious commitment with a long-time girlfriend - with the same lame jokes. On the following day, I attended a good friend's wedding - a lady who accompanied my adventure in 2013 is now tying the knot with a photographer from another island.

That was an intense trip to the Capital. I almost didn't have time alone unless I was at the airport. I was mesmerized by how I am surrounded by great people who really fight for their life. My boyfriend says I should be proud to be having supportive and optimistic circles. And yes, I am.


Two months ago in Bali, there was a festival for movies named Balinale. In collaboration with National commercial cinema, they played many great movies. One that struck me a lot was Night Bus, the best Indonesian movie in FFI 2017. The movie was brilliant. I was once on a night bus through the southern part of Java, and it was the most thrilling experience traveling by bus ever in my life. It was dark, and I couldn't sleep well. I heard so many rumors about bajing loncat, or a bandit who would suddenly jump on our bus and take all that we carry. Watching Night Bus - which tells a story about a bus carrying passengers across the border of a conflict zone, really brought back that feeling.

Last week, a good friend in the office told me about her grandmother, who died of a brain condition. That was the first time in my life that I cried when hearing somebody else's story.  I could feel her broken heart. The previous weekend I had just hiked Mt. Batur with her and just saw how happy she was with me up on the mountain, and I couldn't believe that this humorous and funny woman carried sadness over her grandmother's death even after years.

Another time, I finally had the chance to read Dian Fossey's book: Gorillas in The Mist. Fossey's writing in the acknowledgment section at least reduced my stigma of her cockiness, and her description of gorilla groups that she followed for many years reminds me of how formal training and education sometimes will be beaten by persistence.

But reading Fossey's book, watching Night Bus, and visiting my friends in Jakarta gave me an insight that the definition of the universe - is really debatable.

I watched Contact - a movie based on Carl Sagan's fiction book. It is a mesmerizing movie to be watched at night with a best friend. No matter how I have heard Sagan's speech or talk for thousand times, and the movie brings the same notion as his speech, it never gets old. We humans are just a speck of dust in this gigantic, limitless universe. But what is the universe? Is it only about the collective of all living matter in our space?

Fossey has her gorilla groups - several monkeys and two chickens in Africa as her universe. All passengers in a bus crossing a red zone border have their universe in the destination: their families. My friends are my universe to me. When my good friend - when was losing consciousness, her mother hugged her and shed a tear while praying for my friend; I witnessed another universe there. For her mother, her child is her universe. I now understand why many women can be rude and resentful when fighting for their kids - they are her universe. For my other friend, her universe was her grandmother. These little universes are scattered everywhere. It reminds me of the late mother of my own. No matter how ruined my relationship was with her before she died, I can feel that I have reconciled our relationship now. I can accept the fact that she was the one who taught me that even though I was her kid, I was not always right. She taught me to take care of someone we love when s/he is sick, to visit them, and to talk with them. She taught me to teach unfortunate people financial awareness and to be willing to laugh with them. I remember when she died, those people, from satay and fruit cocktails sellers to her housemaids, were the ones who helped brought her to the hospital and helped with the ceremony while my family members were busy working.

Brian Cox says when we die, we will become a dead star, and I know your consciousness is gone, but I am grateful that you have joined the universe.
You are a matter that will forever exist to me.