When I received news that Kak Dah, my cousin in Alor Star, had collapsed and suffered a brain haemorrhage, my thoughts were with my niece. She must have been devastated and would have just wanted to dash home to be by her mother's side.
But Afza was in Sweden, where she has been with her family for the past 31 years. It would take a miracle for her to dash home in circumstances that are far from normal. However, it didn't stop her from trying.
In this time of pandemic and under strict rules of travelling, Afza had to get permission to travel from the Malaysian embassy in Stockholm, do her tests and get her tickets.
She tried to get the Malaysian Health Ministry to waive her 14- day quarantine at a hotel. But understandably, the request was rejected.
The Malaysia Quarantine Support Group (MQSG) on Facebook, since it started a year ago, had seen many such requests, perhaps on a daily basis, according to Ed Adeeb, one of the co-founders.
Encouraged to hear that her mother had made some movement, Afza boarded the flight home with her mother's favourite biscuits from Sweden.
During the transit in Doha, she messaged to say that she was nervous that she might not make it to see her beloved mother. Her fear became a reality when on arrival, her phone message box was flooded with messages from her siblings. When she heard that her mother had passed away just a few hours before she landed, Afza collapsed at the airport.
What happened after that was a flurry of activities to get her from her hotel in Petaling Jaya, where she was kitted with a hazmat suit, to her hometown in Alor Star, where her mother's body was being prepared for burial.
She remembers two Civil Defence Force (APM) staff, one male and one female — Amir and Alang — both in hazmat suits and masks. She remembers the flashing lights of the ambulance-like-vehicle that took her all the way to Alor Star non stop — no toilet breaks, no drinks, no snacks.
Afza was seated behind, with her luggage in the middle row separating her and the APM staff. The seats were all covered with plastic.
"They were very strict and professional. All I wanted was to get to Alor Star. One of them badly wanted to go to the toilet, but that would have meant getting out of the personal protective equipment (PPE). So the female staff member took over the wheel," said Afza.
They were racing against time, but the burial couldn't wait for the daughter who had flown almost 15 hours from Copenhagen. Afza had to be content with watching her final moments with her beloved mother from a WhatsApp video.
They arrived at the burial grounds at midnight only for Afza to collapse again. Strict standard operating procedures meant that her siblings couldn't even help her get back on her feet. It was Alang, in the hazmat suit, who helped her, emotionally and physically, throughout the very challenging journey home.
They were soaking wet with sweat, but again, uncompromising rules meant that they still could not enjoy a toilet break or a drink, until they found a hotel for Afza. That was another three-hour journey away in Penang, as hotels in Alor Star were fully booked.
Afza recalled arriving at the Rainbow Paradise Hotel in Penang at 3am, to be greeted by the friendly staff of the hotel.
Her luggage was sprayed in a separate area before she was allowed to take off her hazmat suit. Exhaustion, both emotional and physical, mercifully meant that Afza fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, she was met by two other APM staff, and by then, she realised she could not even recognise her two companions who had supported her throughout the eight-hour journey. During the ride, they had not taken off their masks.
"They take their work so seriously and I am very grateful to the APM, the airport police and the Health Ministry for making it possible, even if did not make it to see my mother before the burial," said Afza, who spent her days in quarantine before she could be reunited with her siblings in Alor Star.
Afza's experience with the APM, airport staff and the ministry had been one very encouraging story. Indeed, many people in similar circumstances have benefited from the assistance, both emotional and physical, extended to them in their hour of need.
A friend had to rush back from London when she received news of her father's death. Again, she and her siblings were accompanied by the APM to the mortuary and later to the cemetery.
There were some shortcomings here and there, such as no or late replies, bureaucrats asking for black-and-white confirmation when one was already given, lack of PPE and lack of communication.
However, tributes of gratitude for the unsung heroes, who met and assisted Malaysians arriving from far-flung corners of the world to see their ailing parents or pay their last respects, have flooded the Facebook page of MQSG, which turned one year recently. MQSG has been a lifeline for many seeking help to go home in these very challenging times.
"Appreciate frontliner Edwin of APM, who worked till midnight last night just to make sure that I checked out today smoothly," said one message.
One mother said: "We received toys from APM, so we built a small train town with the Lego set."
In such challenging times, we have shown what we can do beyond the call of duty.
A British expatriate, with similar circumstances as Afza, flew in to Birmingham and learnt of her mother's death on arrival, but was told she could not attend the funeral. She had to undergo the 10-day mandatory quarantine at a hotel.
She was allowed an 18-hour window to attend the funeral on April 12, but that included the five-hour travel time back and forth Birmingham to York.
It meant that her elderly father would have to fetch her on the day that he buried his wife.
Afza has this to say: Credit must be given to our frontliners for their dedication. They deserved to be appreciated and respected for their efforts.