August 1988 vs August 2020

AUGUST is month eight
8 regarded as the luckiest number in Chinese culture
1988 our baby Bom was to be born
that year of the golden dragon.

12 August 1988 was 3 days before her EDD
Intense pain and continuous pushing almost in vain
An exhausted mummy with oxygen to aid
Finally 1.30pm, Judith Yolanda Ngeaw Hui-Hui was born.

31 happy years
Bom was my second child
My closest, a child I spent the most time babysitting
Taro Fresh Cream Chiffon, our favorite cake.

12 August 2020
My baby would have turned 32
Instead, she will always be our 31-year-old baby forever
August my favorite month became my most painful month.

That physical pain of childbirth was nothing compared to losing a child.  Struggling with complicated grief is something I have to live with for life.  Mentally telling myself to ‘grow my heart’ and make it bigger and bigger each day to fill my love and grief because grief is just love with no place to go.

Grief lasts as long as love lasts which is often forever.  Painfully but patiently, I am waiting for Bom to hold out her hand to me and bring me over to her side so we can be together in a safe haven where there is no pain, no sorrow, no parting, and no death.

Nevetheless, I am mummy to three children, Joanne, Judith and Joel.  Nothing will ever take that away from me.


Taro Cake
We brought orchids and daffodills from her EE.  A lovely pink Swan watering can.  A Taro Cake from Navi. Your gesture touched my heart. Thank you.
Jo's cake
Your sister Jo must be the first to visit. We saw Jo’s message to you written on the cake box and the cakes she got for you.


Acceptance and healing

I have been questioning myself.

How can God be good when he took away my beloved dog of 10 years so suddenly?

Isn’t he cruel that two months later, my beloved daughter suddenly died from a brain tumour only diagnosed three weeks ago and died without even knowing she was going to die???  Neurosurgeons assured me that her life was not at risk though of course with that deadly tumour, her life was terminal.  Everyone was in shock.

Questions, questions, questions. ???

Today, 21 January 2020, I am feeling more alone than ever.  My family had been around me to comfort me while we went through the deep grief and pain of Bom’s passing.  Bom’s Dad left for Kuching today.

A little voice told me, again and again, that I will never heal.  I can never accept that Bom is gone.  I am angry with God, angry with the hospitals for the way they handled Bom’s treatment which cut her life even shorter.

As I have my quiet time today, my mind is telling me that I can never heal unless I first accept her death.  I must learn to appreciate the saying that those who passed away are like the wind.  They are still with us, they are present, we cannot see them but we can feel them.

I had been a Christian though never devout.  When my daughter was sick, I prayed desperately for a miracle.  God did not give us a miracle but he took Bom without her having to go through the agony of radiotherapy and chemotherapy plus the torture of counting down the days of when she will die.  Glomastoma is the deadliest of brain tumour.  We are grateful yet it is still hard to accept that my young beautiful daughter had been taken away from us.  So innocent, so young.

My whole bedroom is full of her photos and also photos of Toby (my pet dog).  The two angels I loved to bits.  Displaying all their pictures in my room is my crying to show they live on in my heart forever.  People may say it isn’t healthy to live in the past, some may say put their photos elsewhere.  To me, their photos soften the grief, the pain, re-live the memories seeing their beautiful faces every day.

This blog is just to pour out my feelings, having taken the first step to want to heal and to try and accept that Bom and Toby are now in heaven.

I want to take away my grief but in spite of thinking that God is ‘cruel’, I still believe that only through prayers for strength and talking to God, can I heal.

Sherri Burgess, the author of Bronner: A Journey to Understand wrote :

God doesn’t do these things to hurt us. Scripture tells us we are refined in the furnace of affliction and that sorrow is better than laughter because it scours the heart. It specifically tells us it’s better to go to a funeral than to a party because you might learn something at a funeral. You’re not likely to at a party. Suffering melts away the dross of worldliness, pride and self-reliance and makes us reach for something greater than ourselves. It teaches us the only hope any of us really has is God.

During Bom’s funeral, our Paster’s message was on ‘Grief with Hope’.

I hope I can come back to God and start to pray for healing.





Start a Blog at

Up ↑

Create your website with
Get started