I've a whole chunk of entries that I wanted to blog about, but my heart felt so heavy after
reading the Sunday Times article.
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| Source: Facebook user Faith Teo |
Has it already been a year since Mrs Lee's passing?
The love Mr Lee Kuan Yew and his wife have for each other is legendary.
I'm not talking about what we know from the media.
In my previous job, I've heard many first-hand accounts from my colleagues who witnessed the amazing love and harmony Mr & Mrs Lee shared.
It was incredible.
After 60 years, you know.
Recently, I have seen so many couples who are already having problems within 5 years into their marriage.
Over dinner yesterday, my housing agent friends were just saying that many of the flats they sold nowadays were those of divorcing couples.
Reason for divorce?
Infidelity, for many.
Maybe it's true.
The love couples from the older generation have are stronger than the love our current generation forges.
"As a young man with an interrupted education at Raffles College, and
no steady job or profession, her parents did not look upon me as a
desirable son-in-law. But she had faith in me. We had committed ourselves to each other. "
- Mr Lee Kuan Yew
Mr Lee is such a powerful political figure.
At the risk of sounding silly, I won't be surprised if there are other females
who might be bowled over by that, especially during his younger days.
Back then, a highly educated English-speaking young man is a rare commodity in Singapore.
Double starred first-class honours in Law from Cambridge is still an
insurmountable feat by today's standards.
He told her: 'We have been together for most of our lives. You cannot leave me alone now. I will make your life worth living in spite of your physical handicap.'
She replied: 'That is a big promise.'
Papa said: 'Have I ever let you down?'
- Miss Lee Wei Ling
The pressure and stress of being a great man's wife must be tremendous.
It's one thing to be a rich man's wife and enjoy the tai-tai life
It's another to be a politician's wife and be actively involved in his career.
And it's Mr Lee that we are talking about.
Being a wife of an extremely busy man myself, I can only imagine how much more challenging it must have been for Madam Kwa on so many levels.
I don't know how she did it without going bonkers.
Reading all the euologies made by her family struck me as how intelligent a woman she is.
Even by today's standards, her brillance surely surpassed many of us.
The only girl in Raffles Institution, an all-boys school.
No. 1 in Cambridge Law School, with Mr Lee coming in No. 2.
A co-founder of PAP and one of Singapore's top law firms.
Plus, bringing up and educating 3 children.
Sometime, the idea of waking up to a to-do list that is as long as the Great Wall of China gives me terror chills.
I can just blank out and what takes only 30 minutes to complete ends up taking 2 hours.
Making me feel worse instead.
Madam Kwa must have had incredulous abilities in managing stress and maintaining peak efficiency.
Given her classical education, supreme command of English and a major in English literature at Raffles College, I wish Madam Kwa had a blog or wrote her memoirs. I don't recall any great woman in Singapore had one. Hers will be a great inspiration to many of us ladies in years to come.
I can suggest some chapters off hand!
# How to ace every exam and beat the boys in your class!
# How to train your kids to read the world & be multi-lingual (by taking away the TV, sweetie)
# How to knit beautiful sweaters for the kids overseas
# How to knit cute booties for the grandchildren
The above 2 must include photos of past works.
# How to find good tailors for that perfect cheongsam
# How to write powerful speeches/letters in Queen's English
(to move the nation and leave your Husband's opponents dumbfounded)
# How to run your household & have a fabulous career too
and most importantly,
# How to keep your rich & powerful man for 63 years
Sure sell like hotcakes!
I wish I learn of your achievements earlier, Madam Kwa.
Maybe it's the lack of space in our HDB flats that discourages us from keeping a diverse range of books from Birds of Singapore (jeez, someone actually read that??) to The Oxford's Companion to Food, Peter Rabbit to Lord of the Rings, Plato’s Republic to Confucius.
But even if we do, I bet rarely will any one beat that.
Oh boy, I would love to visit Madam Kwa's library.
Babes, this lady drafted the constitution of PAP and the amendment statute to the Separation Agreement from Malaysia.
The latter saves us from having our water supply cut off at whim by the Malaysian leaders.
Has Her World given Madam Kwa a Woman of the Year award yet?
"I walk two steps behind my husband like a good Asian wife."
- Madam Kwa Geok Choo
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Mr Lee Kuan Yew and Madam Kwa Geok Choo at their wedding reception
at the Raffles Hotel in 1950. They were married secretly in Britain in 1947. Source: www.preshigh.edu.sg |
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"True,
she was escorted by her brother-in-law, but in the Singapore of that
era, if a girl accepted an invitation to a young man's 21st birthday
dinner, it was an event not without significance."
- Mr Lee Kuan Yew
How much does it take to have a steadfast love that spans over decades?
For your then boyfriend to ask for your commitment on New Year's Eve before he leaves for England.
For him to find ways to get you into Cambridge with him.
For him to get you a platinum ring and whisk you to Stratford-on-Avon for a secret wedding, during the Christmas holidays.
For your husband to still hold onto your hand for hours on a long flight.
For your husband to soften & have sparkles in his eyes when he speaks of you.
For your husband to say he has never let you down.
For him to always want you by his side when he travels.
For him to dedicate his memoirs to you.
For him to co-own all his assets and bank accounts with you.
For him to talk to you & read you poems every night by your bedside in your last days.
For him to custom-made wetsuits for you, so that you can swim to aid recovery.
For him to constantly encourage you when you are so sick that it hurts.
For you to stay awake, no matter how hard it is, just to hear his voice.
Even after 63 years of marriage.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have never asked the Husband if he wants to have our ashes together.
Never thought of it till now.
I rather not ask though.
I wish to wait to see if he will ever ask.
"For reasons of sentiment, I would like part of my ashes to be mixed up with Mama's, and both her ashes and mine put side by side in the columbarium. We were joined in life and I would like our ashes to be joined after this life."
- Mr Lee Kuan Yew, in a note to his 3 children
Metta,
欣雨 Xinyu
The Sunday Times Published on Oct 2, 2011
Love does indeed spring eternal
Emotional ties don't come to an end with the passing away of a loved one
By Lee Wei Ling
My friend Balaji Sadasivan passed away on Sept 27 last year. In the obituaries section of The Straits Times last Tuesday, exactly one year after his death, there was a sonnet by Balaji himself: 'But even in gloom, one truth is fundamental, from time immemorial, love springs eternal.'
A week after Balaji died, on Oct 2, my mother passed away peacefully at home. 'Love springs eternal' - but what comfort is that to the one who has departed and can no longer reciprocate our love?
This thought slipped randomly in and out of my mind as I was exercising last week. Then my Blackberry buzzed. I read the incoming e-mail. It was from my father - brief, concise, a mere statement of fact, yet what was unsaid but obvious was his love and concern for us, his children.
I suddenly realised that love does spring eternal. Papa, my brothers Hsien Loong and Hsien Yang, and my sisters-in-laws Ho Ching and Suet Fern, and I are still bound by our love for Mama and will continue to be for many more years.
For the first few weeks after her devastating stroke on May 12, 2008, my family and the doctors met often to discuss how best to minimise her suffering and perhaps enable her to recover to some extent.
The physiotherapists, occupational therapists and speech therapists all did their best, but Mama did not improve. The May 12 stroke was more extensive, and involved more brain regions controlling movement than her first stroke on Oct 25, 2003.
But Papa remembered how well she had recovered from that first stroke, which had occurred while my parents were visiting London. By the end of that year, we were celebrating Mama's 83rd birthday on Dec 21 in a private room at Goodwood Hotel in Singapore.
Now, in October 2008, Papa knew that if Mama survived she would never be able to walk independently. But he felt that so long as she knew she was an important part of his life, she would still find life worth living.
He told her: 'We have been together for most of our lives. You cannot leave me alone now. I will make your life worth living in spite of your physical handicap.'
She replied: 'That is a big promise.'
Papa said: 'Have I ever let you down?'
Mama tried her best to cooperate with the therapists. But it seemed a useless struggle. Even swallowing a teaspoon of semi-solid food was a huge effort. Then more bleeds occurred and her condition deteriorated. We, her family, decided that no further active treatment should be sought. We arranged to bring her home and nurse her there.
Before we brought her home for the final time, Papa arranged for her to stop at the Istana, to see her favourite spots in the grounds. We wheeled her to where she had planted sweet-smelling flowers such as the Sukudangan and the Chempaka. Then we wheeled her to the swimming pool, where she had swum daily.
We showed her the colourful little 'windmills' she had arranged around the pool. She also saw the colourful wetsuits that Papa had arranged to be made for her to keep her warm in the water.
He and I had been convinced that she had to exercise to remain fit. So come rain or shine, she would don a wetsuit and swim. Even when travelling, she would swim in the hotel pool.
On one trip, Mama said to Papa: 'Today is a public holiday in Singapore. Can I take a break from swimming.'
Papa replied: 'No, have a swim. You will feel better after that.'
As a neurologist, I knew that after the first bleed in 2003, a second was likely. But I did not want to burden Papa or Mama with this knowledge.
Still, unknown to me, Papa had sensed that she could easily rebleed. He told us later that they had both discussed death. They had concluded that the one who died first would be the lucky one. The one remaining would suffer loneliness and grief.
Mama deteriorated further after she returned home. Finally, she reached a stage when she could not even speak and seemed unaware of her surroundings. But she was always aware of Papa's presence.
When Papa travelled, she would stay awake at night waiting for his phone call. When I began travelling with him, he usually would tell her on the phone: 'Bye dear, I am passing the phone to Ling.' Those were the times when I could hear her actively trying to vocalise.
When Mama passed away, I was at her bedside, watching her fade as her respiration became more shallow and feeble until it finally stopped. I did not try cardiopulmonary resuscitation. It would have been futile to have done so and cruel.
I called to ask my family physician to sign the death certificate, then returned to my room in a daze. Papa waited until the people from the Singapore Casket Company arrived. He showed them the jacket he wished Mama to wear and asked them to do their best to make her look attractive.
The wake lasted for three days. Hsien Loong and Hsien Yang, together with their wives, took turns to stand by the coffin and greet well-wishers.
I was tired and rested at home, only attending the wake on the first evening to greet my friends and colleagues. I hoped that by resting I would recover by the day of the funeral.
Most of the time, my mind was blank. I thought I had my emotions under control. It was only at the funeral, when it was my turn to deliver the eulogy, that the finality of Mama's passing hit me. I managed to control my tears but my voice was strained with emotion.
Three days after the cremation, the urn containing my mother's ashes was delivered to our home. We all stood and bowed as the urn was brought into the dining room.
A few days later, I noticed that Papa had moved from his usual place at the dining table so as to face a wall, on which were placed photographs of Mama and himself in their old age. He tried various arrangements of the photos for a week before he was satisfied.
He also moved back to the bedroom he had shared with Mama for decades before her final illness. At the foot of his bed were another three photographs of Mama and himself.
The health of men often deteriorates after they lose their wives. The security officers and I watched Papa getting more frail every day. His facial features were grim, perhaps to mask his sadness and grief. I took one day at a time and persuaded him not to undertake any arduous trips to America or Europe. China and Japan were near enough and manageable. I was pleased to get him out of the house.
By July this year, Papa's health had stabilised and even begun to improve gradually. I reminded myself of the analogy I used for him - titanium. Titanium is light but strong. It can bend a little, but it will not snap unless it is under overwhelming force.
Physically, we all eventually succumb. Papa is also mortal. But he is psychologically stronger than most people. Life has to carry on, and he will keep going so long as he can contribute to Singapore.
As I was halfway through writing this article, I went out of my room for a drink of water and saw a note from Papa addressed to all three of his children. It read:
'For reasons of sentiment, I would like part of my ashes to be mixed up with Mama's, and both her ashes and mine put side by side in the columbarium. We were joined in life and I would like our ashes to be joined after this life.'
The writer is director of the National Neuroscience Institute. Send your comments to
suntimes@sph.com.sg
Copyright © 2011 Singapore Press Holdings. All rights reserved.
