In Memory of Sophie
Posted on January 12th, 2008 – 4:01 PMBy May Chen
I got to know Flo more than a decade ago when we were both part of the Malaysia bureau of the Asian Wall Street Journal. She worked in the business office, selling ad space in the paper to the biggest companies in the country. I was a reporter, writing the stories that sometimes irritated her clients so much that they pulled those ads.
Yet we were friends. We were both young and single. We shared our dreams of chucking our day jobs and commiserated over romantic tribulations with copious glasses of wine.
She, the French transplant, ended up marrying a Malaysian. I, the Malaysian, married a Minnesotan and moved to his hometown, becoming a transplant myself. When I told her I was marrying Chris, she laughed. “Your baby will look like mine!” she said. We kept in touch over the years. On our annual trips to Malaysia, Flo’s daughter Sophie played with my Zoe. They were two years apart, but when they played together, the two little girls - each a blend of east and west - reminded us how small the world was and how unpredictable the forces that shape our lives.
Last fall, I heard from Flo. Sophie was very sick. She had a particularly aggressive form of childhood cancer - neuroblastoma. “This thing is a real pis of shit, May,” Flo said in her French-accented English. She scoured the web for medical information. They researched doctors around the world. She and her husband were on the one hand despairing; on the other, inspired by their little girl, who became a source of strength with her sunny outlook even as the adults around her fell to pieces. When I told Zoe that Big Girl Sophie was sick, Zoe made her a get well card.
We planned our next trip to Malaysia to coincide with Chinese New Year. We fly in three weeks. But there won’t be another playdate with Sophie. Last week, the news came. Against all odds, the chemo and surgery were successful. But after she came home, Sophie contracted an infection. She died just after her sixth birthday.
I’m at a loss for words. It’s just unimaginable. So here’s an e-mail from my friend Doug, who always says it better.
When Tracy and I visited, about two days after Sophie died, Flo was amazingly composed - she and S.P. were busy making arrangements and putting together photos to show at the service. Sophie was laid out in a casket in the living room, surrounded by her stuffed animals, flowers everywhere. There were friends and family.
Flo said all signs had been good that Sophie had beaten her cancer, but a few days after her sixth birthday, she went into shock, and died. Flo recounted how Sophie had told her she would beat her cancer, “for me.” Heartbreaking.
It’s amazing how people somehow manage to bear the unbearable.
Hope all is well in Minneapolis.
Doug
12 Responses to "In Memory of Sophie"
That is just heartbreaking. My condolences.
“Hope all is well in Minneapolis” — what a poignant sentiment to remind me to be so very, very grateful that all is well in my little world.
I am so sorry for your loss. There are no magic words to take away the hurt, but know that Sophie and all who loved her will be in my prayers tonight.
How very sad. I’m sorry for your loss.
What a strong, powerful young girl; I am always amazed by the amount of strenght young children have. I am sorry for your loss.
May,
I’m so sorry.
May - I was very sad to read this. As a mom who has lost a child I can say that Flo will probably be honored and grateful that you dedicated a blog post to Sophie. Each and every indication that my son mattered to someone was a blessing - a tiny bit of warmth in the coldest, saddest of times. All the tiny little bits of warmth from people near and far added up to become a great warm blanket when I needed it most. When you see Flo in a few weeks do not hesitate to be open about your feelings for Sophie. It matters SO MUCH that one’s children made a difference and that other people miss them. It’s pretty much the only thing that got me thru those first awful months, which are horrifically isolating no matter how caring the community. Take care and travel safely when you go.
This is terrible news and I am so sorry. So sorry for your loss May, and especially the great, unconsoloable loss that Flo I’m sure is feeling.
The unimaginable. I’m so sorry for Flo’s loss and I’m glad you will see her soon to be able to re-connect through a tough time.
Do Flo and her husband have other children…? I don’t mean as a “substitute” for Sophie…but other children are such a blessing in those situations, to keep you from sinking too far into despair.
Katy, Sophie was an only child.
Oh, my heart is just breaking for her. Please let her know how many of us are thinking of her.
May- I am so sorry. It is heartbreaking to hear of such a loss. I will pray for Sophie and her family as they make their way through this loss.
Dear May, Chris, and friends
I am so touched by your messages and wishes. May, thank you for this blog. C is right and has described perfectly the comfort that it brings to us.
As you know, Sophie was my everything. For 6 years, she dictated my routine, my life and moods. I lived for her. SP and I feel the same about Sophie: we were supposed to guide her in life but she became our teacher. She was only 6 but she was a very powerful girl. She had a gift for touching people and bringing the best out of them. She has taught us to love, to care, to believe and hope. She has shown us what courage was. One day after a chemo session, she said a prayer. As always, she did not pray for herself but for others. That day it was for her mum and dad : “Dear God, please bless my mummy and daddy so they will not cry. Make them strong. I will be brave.”
She has an amazing spirit and we have an obligation to keep it alive. We will not cry (too much) and we will be strong. Sophie had other wishes : siblings. She even named them Rose for the girl and Alexender for the boy. We promised her that when she gets well we would grant her wish.
She laid out the path to recovery for us. We have to keep our promises to her and so we have no choice but to be strong, be happy and give her 2 or even 3 siblings.
As I said to her the very moment she left us, she will always be with us and we will always be with her.
I can’t wait to see you May and Chris and Zoe and Maya. Come as soon as you arrive.
Love. Flo
