Three days after I returned from Beijing, my life changed forever.
On April 1st, 2016 — April Fool’s Day — my daughter was admitted to hospital.
At first, it seemed like just a fever and a small lump on her neck.
How I wished it was a joke — but it was not.
I gave up my plan to open a Feng Shui shop, because the only place I belonged was by her side. For weeks the doctors had no answers. Finally, they said the words I feared: cancer, stage two.
She fought bravely, never showing fear. But when the first treatment failed, the doctor told us she had only four months left.
She even asked the doctor not to tell me. She didn’t want me to suffer. She never complained, but alone, she cried.
My world collapsed. Yet inside, something rose up. I made a vow:
“Take ten years of my life, and give them to her.”
Because every mother knows: every child deserves a healthy body and a happy life.
That vow gave me courage — and it gave her hope.
She longed for a break, told me she was home for a birthday celebration. But it was a white lie, hiding despair. The hospital even considered sending her for mental health support.
I realized I could not just sit and cry. I had to show her that even in suffering, we can create meaning.
So I fulfilled one of my own dreams — I wrote my book, How Lah! Unveiling the Secrets of the Universe. Not for me, but for her.
I told her: “If I can fulfill my dream, you must fight for yours. Sit for your exams. Do not give up.”
And she did. With determination, she studied. Against all odds, she graduated from Murdoch University in Perth with a double degree.
At her ceremony, I saw her walk across the stage, diploma in hand, face glowing with victory. That moment was priceless.
She lived two more years. In 2018, she passed away. Her last wish was to have her ashes scattered on the mountains of Switzerland — a place of freedom and peace. That wish still lives in my heart.
My vow did not change her fate. But it changed how we lived. It gave us memories, purpose, and love. Her graduation, her courage, her wish — they continue to inspire me.
Friends, I share this not to dwell on sorrow, but to remind us of possibility.
If my daughter could face cancer and still walk that graduation stage, then surely each of us can rise above our struggles.
Cherish your time. Protect the dreams that matter. Stand beside the people you love.
Life is not measured by length, but by depth.
Not by what you gain, but by what you give.
Not by years, but by the strength love gives you to face tomorrow.
If my daughter could carry her dream to her own Switzerland, then so can you. Carry yours — with courage, with love, and with hope.
