There's nothing much to be said about it, really. It's over now.
And I feel nothing but just a great big emptiness inside me, like my whole body has been hollowed out. I didn't even cry. I couldn't. There's nothing left.
My mother is the strongest woman on earth, I think sometimes. She sent him off with a smile, knowing full well she will never see his face with her naked eyes again. I can only imagine what she's feeling inside now.
Dad is pretty similar, too. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he said his son's happiness is his own and that's all that matters right now. There is just nothing I can add to that.
I will also have to leave at the end of this week. Turns out I will be gone for my Teaching Practicum for an entire month. A part of me wants my sister and her husband and kids to come over and stay in my room until I come back. I don't want my parents to spend the first half of Ramadan alone, just the two of them in an empty house, so soon after Bro left. In any case, Sis will probably come over often anyway; she is possibly more worried about Mum and Dad than I am.
That's it, I suppose. There is nothing more I can say about this. I don't think the whole ordeal and its implications have entirely sunk in yet. Maybe that's why I feel so hollow. Maybe the waterworks are on the way, biding their time. Whatever. I can't be bothered anymore. I'm just tired.