An Obituary
The new year was merely a week ago. On the third day of January, 2025, I lost a good friend, Abdul Hazim bin Hamzah, who died in a road accident. According to eyewitnesses, he fell from his motorbike and was run over by an SUV on ELITE highway, somewhere near the Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA) interchange, heading towards Seremban. The local time was around 1736 hrs. He died immediately at the scene. According to the autopsy report, his rib cage and heart were shattered from the impact of being run over by a vehicle. At the time of this writing, the vehicle that hit him still cannot be traced. He was on his way home to Bandar Seri Putra, and this was a routine 150 km daily commute to and from his workplace in Puncak Alam, as he was a staff member of Universiti Teknologi MARA for several years. From what he had told me before, the motorbike was faster and more economical as compared to getting there by car. When asked about the possibility of relocating nearer to his workplace, he explained that since his wife was working near Bandar Seri Putra, and her immediate family members also live in the area, it was best for him to travel instead of the wife. He was laid to rest at Bandar Seri Putra Islamic Cemetery on 4th January, 2025. He was survived by his wife and three daughters.
I got to know about this tragic news when I browsed through his WhatsApp status. His wife, Syahidah, had announced that Hazim had passed away due to a traffic accident. It stunned me as I had just had a WhatsApp chat with him the previous day. After he saw my status post indicating I was at a hospital, he asked me about my health. I told him I was fine; it was just the waiting that drove me nuts. I joked that if I were wealthier, I wouldn't have to go to a public hospital in the first place. And he told me that he would pray for my success together with my wife, and that 2025 will be my year. I said, “Thank you!” and that was our last conversation ever.
I had known Hazim for more than 10 years. When I formed my string ensemble, he was among the first to join, and he was loyal to us through thick and thin. We had nothing back then: no funds, no facilities; everything was contributed by the ensemble members. Our first headquarters was a member's study room in Bukit Damansara. I remembered the funny moments, like when Hazim freaked out every time her dog came to watch our rehearsals. Hazim participated in most of our events, whether they were paid gigs or just a labour of love. On one occasion, he helped out as a crew member, and during the COVID-19 lockdown, he supported my small business selling IEM earphones. I would not dare to say that I was among his close friends, but we had always spent time talking about music and life. He always called me for advice and assistance, which I never turned down, as he was like my own brother.
Hazim was a soft-spoken, pleasant, and hard-working man. He was indeed a highly likeable person, as I witnessed on the day of his funeral; hundreds of people turned up, be they his family members, colleagues, students, or friends. During our ensemble practices, unless he was really sick or occupied with something else, he would not fail to turn up. Very few people in our society would be so committed to a cause. The sun and storm did not stop him; with the viola case on his back, he would ride his motorbike to the venue. On one evening, I saw him sheltering underneath a flyover due to the heavy rain while en route to our rehearsal. The rehearsal ended late that night; his home was still about 40 km away, and he still had to work the next morning. Who would do that, honestly? During our final gig together, he was very happy when I told him that we had a job offer to perform at the German-Malaysian Institute (GMI) Convocation in November 2024. He said that this could be the first of many and was so looking forward to the project. At that event, he left a good impression on the GMI staff. When I announced his death on my WhatsApp status, two staff members remembered him and were so devastated by the news that they contributed some money for his funeral. Such is the legacy of a good man.
Honestly, I was more disturbed than saddened by his passing. He is definitely in a better place now. I do feel concerned about his wife and three kids, but I believe God will protect them. I am glad to have been a part of his life and to have had him as a part of mine. I will cherish the times we spent together. Rest in peace, my friend. Goodbye for now, and until we meet again! Al-Fatihah.
