Letting go

It was with heartfelt sadness when I heard the passing of a lady whom I did not know that long (but well enough) on 2 May 2010. The brave lady was the wife of one of our firm's client and she met her Lord at the end of a long and arduous battle with breast cancer.

I attended her wake on 3 May 2010 together with my dad. While we are definitely not Christians, we found the service extremely moving and minus the references to religion, was definitely an experience. But then again, apart from my boss who attended as well and the family members who definitely know I'm a Muslim, I believe no one else knew we are not of the Christian faith.

Songs were sang and eulogies were shared about a life which was well lived for 52 years and yet, cut short by the disease. In fact, the last eulogy by her husband was most beautiful. It was not long like others before him or plain cheap (I absolutely detest one eulogy where the speaker managed to use the deceased lady in promoting her dvd and book. Come on, it's a wake for heavens sake. Leave your business alone.) and yet, managed to move me to tears. He didn't speak much but what he said were worth remembering. He joked that the wife found in him what she has always prayed for. He sang the song which according to him, was played at their wedding almost 25 years ago. Finally, he recounted the last moments before his wife drew her last breath.

In his words, the family was prepared for the worst two weeks before her actual passing. They came and took shifts in taking care of her. And when they sensed it was time, they spoke to her in Hokkien and told her to 'lu kia la' (to go). Everyone had uttered those words to let her go save for the lady's mother. I can't imagine the pain of having one's child dying before the parents and I don't wish for the pain to be inflicted on anyone else. It's almost akin to going against nature when your child dies before you and no matter how old your child is, I believe the mother still thinks of her daughter as a mere girl. The mother was sad and yet, wanted the daughter to hold on for just one more day because the next night was the mother's turn to look after the deceased. I believe she must have felt that she has failed in her duty as her mother.

And yet, the deceased somehow clung to life until other family members persuaded the mother to let the daughter go. Once the mother uttered 'lu kia la', only then did the deceased breath her last.

At that point, I was shedding tears because the significance of the 'lu kia la' was a repeat of what happened to a close family friend. The lady in question too clung to her life (she was suffering from ovarian cancer) until her mother whispered in her ears for her to go.

I guess there's truth in letting go. And unless the person (usually the mother) allows the soul to leave the body for another world, death somehow remains hovering for absolution.

Kathryn left behind 3 young children and her beloved husband.

In her memory, I share this poem -

Do not stand at my grave and weep,I am not there,

I do not sleep.I am in a thousand winds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,I am in the graceful rushOf beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the starshine of the night.I am in the flowers that bloom,I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,I am in each lovely thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,I am not there. I did not die.

- Mary Elizabeth Frye (1904-2004)