When a loved one passes on,
are you the one who lives on,
or is there a part
of you
that died with them.
My early evening musings, on a Friday night which is the start of a relaxed weekend of catching up on weeks of lecture note-making.
Yes, my words are morose, but life can be depressing, to the point where it takes on an art form. Do these words resonate with you? They do with me.
My beloved teacher, Mdm Wong Yen Chen passed away nearly two months ago, from stage 4 triple negative metastatic breast cancer. I would like to take this opportunity to mourn her passing.
She was beautiful; her soul was pure and kind; she was one of my best friends at school, and her friendship and mentorship changed my life.
Between the age of 13 and 16, I had minimal interactions with her. I thought of her as odd and uncool, like most people over 50 years of age. She taught my class civic and moral education occasionally, but she worked full time as the school counsellor. No one paid attention in her class, including myself, ashamedly. I think it was more to do with the subject rather than her teaching. She tried her best, I remember. Now that I am mature enough to appreciate teachers who put in the effort, I think I was a little twat of a student to not have valued her attributes earlier. Hey ho.
When I was 16, I started counselling. Mental health was a tabooed subject in Malaysia back then. Counselling was for problematic kids, for the depressed kids, for the ones that people shunned. I desperately did not want to be labelled as one of them.
Yet, I went to her office every single day of the year- lunchbox in hand, and actually looking forward to having a chat with her.
It wasn't actually a counselling session per say. I just enjoyed her presence, her company. I found her way more interesting than my peers. We talked about politics, about education, even gossiped about some of the kids i didn't like (i'm kidding).
She told me that she thought I was special, because my name, Jie Fei is a combination of her sons' names, Ying Jie and Ying Fei. I thought that was so weird. But now, I think this was a sign from God that I had conveniently missed.
I miss her.
When I found out this summer that she had a relapse of her cancer, and that this time, the chemo and radio were not having an effect on the tumour cells, I was devastated. She had been diagnosed with breast cancer in 2016, but went into remission for at least a year or two. I remember my last catch up with her was summer of last year, before I was going to start a new life in Aberdeen. I remember her telling me stories of her extended family and how her nephew/niece who also studied medicine fell in love with another medical student and built a life together in Australia. I think she may have been hinting at something..but I digress. We had a lovely time, and I was certain there would be more to come.
I found out about her death during a morning lecture. A short text from a friend back home. An innocent 'have you heard the news? I know you two were close.'
2 months later, I do not think I have really processed her death. I mean, it is one thing to know it intellectually- yes, Mdm Wong has passed away, she's no longer on this earth, but has gone to heaven or wherever it is that awaits us after this life. But to know it emotionally- I don't know if I'm there yet.
We grew apart, which is understandable as we only got to see each other once, at most twice a year after I left school early. She was still working at my school, so it was tricky. I got reconnected with her after I left for the UK to study A levels, through an email I wrote to her reminiscing on the good memories we shared-
The memory of her chaperoning us on a school trip to the UK in 2015. A summer school programme to expose kids to British universities, yeah, it is as pretentious as it sounds. But it was a lot of fun, and for me, life-changing.
I can never go back to those times when she was younger, more robust and preppy. All I have are fragments of the past that I desperately cling onto but at the same time, want to let go.
I visited her this summer, several times at her home. Her husband let me in. I disguised my horror at her emancipated form. I said false reassurances and attempted light humour. I sang hymns and played the piano. I was absolutely miserable.
In that moment, I knew, that she was better dead than alive. The cancer had spread to her brain and bones. Every breath she took was agony. She was not herself anymore. I saw with my own eyes what cancer could reduce a person to- a shell of the past. That is one of the reasons why I took an interest in cancer research, whether that bore fruit is a different story to tell.
In my heart, she was already gone. But still, I pretended to be cheerful, to be positive when her husband showed me the time-line of her treatment, because I am a medical student and he thought it would be of interest to me. Or he wanted my opinion. Either or, it was humbling but so very saddening.
When I found out that she had passed, I immediately compartmentalised my emotions to deal with it later. Unfortunately, part of growing up means that I had to learn when to show vulnerability; just because you have emotional baggage doesn't mean the world would be any kinder, is something I learned the hard way throughout my years of schooling. I went for my ward session, and was assigned a patient who had just found out he had been diagnosed with cancer at the oesophago-gastric junction. *Bam bam* I was speechless. I just couldn't bring myself to reassure him, for I felt pretty bleak truth be told.
It is sad, isn't it? I had always been a sensitive soul, someone who went 'Aww..' whenever something cute/tragic happened (pretty interchangeable phrase actually). Somehow, over the years, we lose that touch of innocence in us. We harden, and we become nonchalant. I reflect on this from time to time, and I think to myself: no wonder people say 'growing up is a trap!'
I went on a date with this boy. Cute German boy with sparkly eyes and an easy smile. I passed this off-hand comment about not having grandparents and he went 'Aww I'm sorry to hear that'
Sweet of him- I almost wanted to laugh. My deceased grandparents are ancient history, with all due respect. No no, I do not mourn the dead, I mourn the living; I grieve over my heart that has lost a piece that Mdm Wong used to occupy with her life and love.
End of, I wish to end on a more positive note. Let me finish this little monologue with a prayer. I didn't get to attend her funeral. I didn't even get to write or say a eulogy. But it's okay. Funerals are for the living, and my words are for her only.
Dear Mdm Wong,
I miss you.
I really, really miss you.
I miss your charm, I miss your grace.
I miss the way you brightened up my days.
This life is long; longer now that you are not in it,
But please,
Watch over me,
Guide me,
and never let me forget
the blessing you have been
in my life.
Amen.
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