Love is never Lost
By Albert Tan
In February this year, I heard that a good friend of mine, Yoke Lin had contracted stomach cancer. I felt a huge lump in my throat. My feelings bordered on anger and exasperation. Numerous reports have stated that the life expectancy of Singaporeans is expected to rise. So why are there so many people around my age dying prematurely? Was it just a lie?
Yoke Lin married late. I attended her wedding dinner. We rejoiced together with this not-so-young couple, both of them in their 40s. We had known each other for more than two decades. We attended the same church and had home gatherings in her house before her mother passed away. In fact, we were a closely-knit family.
Life was hard for Yoke Lin. She received little education. Yoke Lin worked long and tiring hours as a chambermaid in a hotel, earning a meager income. Despite this, she never had any complaints; her ever ready and sincere smiles were as radiant as the midday sun. Everyone warmed to her cheerful disposition. She always jokingly told people that I was her elder brother.
Then, like a bolt out of the blue sky, I got news that Yoke Lin was stricken with cancer. I felt the need to fulfill my final obligation and express my gratitude for the kindness that I, undeservingly, had been showered by Yoke Lin and her mother. So began my regular trips to her Hougang home and the hospice to see her. Yoke Lin underwent two operations to remove the tumors in her stomach. Unfortunately, the cancer cells had spread to the adjacent organs. The doctors put her on chemotherapy to help prolong her life; and sent her home to live out her last days.
On my first visit, Yoke Lin was obviously happy to see me. She still retained her good humour and was bubbly and chatty. Besides a slightly enlarged belly, I could hardly notice any sign of sickness about her. Her elder brother, with whom I've been friends for a long time now, commented to me that his sister was either too ignorant or naive to contemplate her imminent death. On every visit, I made it a point to hold her hand and pray for her. I hoped that God willing, He would have mercy on her and release His healing power.
For the next few months, her health dipped and spiraled down the abyss of hopelessness. It was obvious to me that Yoke Lin was losing weight and getting weaker. She had to wear a permanent morphine patch to help her ease the pain as the disease rampaged out of control in her already frail body. At one point, she asked me, “What if I do not get well?” I wanted to be honest with her and I didn’t want to give her false hope that God in His almighty sovereignty was going to heal her. As best I could, I replied in plain and simple words – “Be brave, we will all die someday anyway.” I know these words offered no comfort; furthermore, it also served as a reminder of my own eventual mortality!
My fortnightly visits turned to weekly; then they became every other day. Towards the end, the doctors put her on morphine drips. Yoke Lin began to drift in and out of unconsciousness. Eventually, she could not even recognise me anymore. On my last visit at the hospice, Yoke Lin lied lifelessly in bed; her breathing was shallow, hardly noticeable. I knew the end was near. I held her hand and whispered my last prayer for her: “Please God, if You are willing, take her home.”
The following day, on 15 Nov 2008, Yoke Lin surrendered to her long fight with cancer. She was 48. She left behind many people who loved her. But love is never lost, not even in death.
Through Yoke Lin’s death, God delivered life’s most important lessons to me. All through life, I had difficulty accepting deaths and sufferings. God, in all His mercy, had allowed me to be present as Yoke Lin lived her last days. I was given the opportunity to fully experience the sadness and absurdity that life presented and still find reasons and the courage to go on. Meanwhile, I need to overcome the fear of my own demise and bravely accept all indications of ageing as reminders of my mortality. May God grant me the courage to be brave when my own curtain closes.