Eulogy - In loving memory of my mother, Lily Lucas

A Life of Strength, Music & Love

From Prema Lucas

As I reflect on my mother’s life, I feel both gratitude for having had the privilege of being her child and a deep sadness knowing that she is no longer physically with us. But as I sit here writing these words, I’m reminded that her spirit, love and the lessons she imparted will forever remain in my heart.

My mother was a formidable woman, a pioneer, a bit of a rebel and truly courageous. As I look at her life through the eyes of someone who has spent the last 25 years learning about the human psyche and what motivates people, I see my darling mother’s life, her choices and her journey on this earth with great clarity and compassion.

My mum was born in a very different time … 1931 is almost a century ago…a whole century, lets allow that to sink in for a moment. For her, growing up in Cenderoh, Malaysia, life was something that we today, cannot begin to relate to. It was a whole different Universe; when people did what they were told, did what was expected of them, followed the rules and played the part that was written out for them by their parents, their families, their communities and society at large. Knowing this makes the choices that she made so much more dangerous, as she had to tread a fine line between following her heart and not rocking the boat.

I remember as a child hearing dissonant voices within her family making light of some of the things that meant the most to her, like her music and choice to play the piano. For you and me today, a desire to learn to play an instrument is greeted with a lot of respect but for mum, in her 20’s it carried resistance, possibly even from herself. The pressure was always I think to prioritise making a living and mum wanting to learn to play the piano was perhaps a little frowned upon as an unnecessary pursuit. Knowing this makes the support and encouragement I received from both my parents in pursuit of my art, of making music, so much more valuable & sacred to me.

Mum was a natural teacher, as was my dad, Clement. They were meant to be together, both possessing qualities that complimented the other. She always spoke with a glint in her eye of the dates dad took mum on while they were courting – dad was a classy guy and mum was a classy gal so fancy dinners were a winning choice on dad’s part!

Teaching was her calling and music was her joy. She taught for many years in a secondary school both in Taiping and Kuala Kangsar predominantly teaching History, Geography & English. However, she had a natural talent for being a choir mistress, a track and field coach, an elocution coach and especially enjoyed being instrumental in curating the school Library. She was the teacher the school always called on to organise prizes and dignitaries for the school sports day or the school end of year awards ceremony at the Treacher Methodist Girl’s School in Taiping. She absolutely loved her days there and when I eventually went to that school, I loved seeing her walk to classes in her court shoes, elegant sarees, books clutched to her bosom, with her head held high, spring in her step and a sparkle in her eye…mum was always immaculately put together with her trademark long bob and orange red lipstick…. she was a whole vibe to herself. I know this is where I got my love of fashion as I loved watching her get ready for school.

A couple of times a year, a man would turn up to our house with a suitcase full of gorgeous sarees from India and mum would make her selections (with dad’s help – she always asked his opinion – dad was a master of knowing what colours suited mum). I would sit cross-legged on the floor watching this fabulous interaction – where it felt like an entire bazaar erupted in colour, noise and smells in our living room! The joy after each visit was palpable; dad the proud husband who bought his wife fine sarees, mum the delighted wife with lots of lovely new clothes to wear and me the happy child who had her own personal theatrical performance in her living room.

Life had its ups and downs and that is the same for everyone – joy & heartache in balance. I think for mum, much of her sadness was because of the ever-present push and pull between her desire to be her true self and her obligation to be the person people wanted her to be. She was actually a very adventurous person, I know this because of the way she spoke of the things she did when she was younger.

Mum did feel obligated to be a certain ‘acceptable’ version of herself once she got married but I’m glad to say, she began to shed those expectations once she got into her 60’s and 70’s, slowly peeling away those layers. The woman that said her ‘goodbyes and I love yous’ to us on the 26th of January when she was admitted was her true authentic self again – I saw my powerful, strong and remarkable mum again that day and it will be forever etched in my heart as a sacred moment.

Mum’s younger years were all about following her heart. She decided to join a family of American missionaries to the east coast of Malaysia – they were the Lundy family, led by the late Bishop Robert Lundy. She adored that family and learned so much from her time with them. She always spoke of that experience with love and joy. I think it shaped her thinking and approach to life; after that experience she began to adopt a more ‘Western’ mentality which was more in keeping with her spirit.

She also had an epic girl’s trip holiday to visit the Angkor Wat in Cambodia. There’s a fabulous photo of mum with cat’s eye glasses leaning nonchalantly against a giant Golden statue of the Buddha! She had an adventurous spirit and while she didn’t get to have all the experiences she truly wanted; the flame was always kept alive in her heart…to the very end. I have a very clear memory of Simon and I taking mum to a grand hotel on the Thames near Windsor for Afternoon Tea and she got awfully quiet. Concerned, I asked her if everything was ok to which she replied, ‘I have never experienced anything like this, it’s wonderful’. She was silent because she was taking it all in, drinking in that moment with her tea and perhaps wistfully off on some secret adventure in her imagination.

Mum always claims she was one of the first ladies to buy and ride a scooter in Taiping and as a young child I noticed people would say hi to her and mimic the handles of a scooter revving, so that claim carries weight! Mum played tennis and also learned to play golf. She actually had an outfit made for her so she could play golf! She wore these funky checked trousers and a crisp white short sleeved shirt/blouse – she looked every inch the part! Sadly, I don’t think she every made it to the golf course but she did love her early mornings at the driving range – even if she was the only woman there! Now I know this is where I get my sense of fashion and that ‘not -giving a hoot’ energy when there’s something I want to do … I don’t let anyone stop me or tell me otherwise. Can you imagine how much courage it took for her to do that (especially taking her child with her)? The men playing golf always treated her with respect though because she earned it by just being there with such confidence and grace.

Mum’s great passion was music; it fed her soul. Her faith in God and music were her two constants in life. She began to teach piano during the evenings from our home in the 80’s. If I’m honest, I think the main motivation was financial at the time but pretty soon she had garnered a whole cohort of pupils (including me) and she guided us all through our grades from 1- 8 for our Royal College of Music Certificates. She might have been physically exhausted from holding down 2 jobs effectively, but she really did enjoy it, especially when a pupil showed promise and was inspired. She loved teaching people – mum was a consummate teacher.

When I left for Australia to stay with her sister first, then her brother to pursue my higher education, I think both my parents really struggled with our family unit being separated. We all made that decision together, tough as it was. It turned out to be the best decision we made as a family because it changed the trajectory of my life…I would not be the person I am today without that one pivotal moment. Those were not easy times for our family; we all had our own struggles during that period and soon after I got to Australia, dad was diagnosed with cancer, and underwent intense radiotherapy. It was a heartbreaking phase in our family’s history but dad recovered in time and we were reunited in Adelaide once he had completed his treatment. We got to spend around 6 months in Australia together as a family before my parents returned to Malaysia while I completed my degree.

Then something remarkable happened, I discovered my calling – it was music of course, how could it not be music as music is so deeply intertwined in my family? Music & art is in my family genes as dad’s father wrote hymns for his church in India and his brother B. B. Lucas was a cinematographer in many Tamil films. My parents were overjoyed and despite some strong resistance from mum’s side of the family, my parents gave me their blessings to pursue my music and they didn’t even have to persuade me to finish my university education because I understood that value and worth of a university degree. For me completing that degree was important because I am after all the daughter of two incredible teachers and an education is a gift not to be trifled with! My university education is precious to me but I am eternally grateful to my loving parents for giving me the freedom to pursue something I loved even though they didn’t get that opportunity to do it themselves. Dad actually got an acting part in a film in Bollywood but his mother begged him not to take it! So, as you can see, it was pure love that made them give me their blessings and support. I am so glad that they got to see that their decision to support me paid off when I achieved a successful career in Malaysia and latterly making a second album in the UK.

When dad passed away in 1998, mum was distraught, though she didn’t show it. I know she was tired from caring for him as he started to get ill again. I think they both knew what was happening and dad had already decided that he was ready to go home to the Lord. However, not long after his death, she pulled herself back up and took a holiday in Australia to be with her sister Rosie whom she loved deeply. I think that gave mum the boost she needed to redefine her life. She started to perk up and she even took a job with some photographers to learn the computer when she got back to KL – it was a lovely way for her to expand and reinvent herself at 68! She never failed to surprise me and pretty soon she got that spring back in her step, she was her feisty self again.

In 1999 we came to another crossroads as I fell in love with Simon and after almost a year of courtship, I decided to move to the UK to be with him after he proposed to me. This was a tough decision to make, I didn’t want to leave mum alone, but I also wanted to begin my life with the man I loved. It doesn’t go unnoticed that mum would have faced similar dilemmas in her life torn between the heart and doing what is expected of you. I know that to this day, there are people in mum’s life who still feel like I abandoned my mum by choosing to be with Simon. But mum always said this to me, ‘the child never asks to be born’, ‘it’s not your responsibility to look after me’. She insisted that I go and live my life and for that blessing I will always be grateful.

Since moving to England, mum would visit us often. When she came for our wedding, she said something to me that will stay with me forever, ‘he really is the absolute right man for you!’ I was being petulant about something and Simon very lovingly but firmly chided me, to which she laughed a hearty laugh and said this – a vivid memory of the three of us standing by the pier at Southampton with the wind blowing furiously as we desperately held on to our fish and chips! Mum really enjoyed her visits to England, although even in summer she would be freezing and would always say, ‘this is why I could never live here! I can’t bear this cold!’. On her last visit to see us, it was the height of summer, but not particularly warm, a pleasant 26 degrees Celsius and we had stepped out to walk our dog – on our return home the thermostat was turned up so high the house was boiling hot but mum was happy as a lark watching TV now that the temperature was finally to her liking! She chose to stay on in KL and we all reconciled with her decision to do that as it was definitely the best decision for my wonderfully independent mother.

Mum’s later years in KL were a very happy time for her. She got to get a healthy dose of music via the Philharmonic at KLCC – they were the highlight of her month. She had a close network of friends and mum and I would speak regularly as she would regale me with stories of her week and who was in her good books and in her bad books that week…. always a teacher to the end! Of course, as a good teacher’s assistant I have all the notes of who did what to her and when, and how many marks were deducted for rudeness, etc. all in that quintessential report card a teacher always has in her head! I will miss those chats with my mum!

One of the things that I am so proud of is mum’s love of Facebook. She took to it like a duck to water and truly enjoyed using it. She would watch eagle eyed on who liked or didn’t like my posts - protective mum even in the virtual world! She would tell me about her posts, then other peoples’ posts and finally be either impressed or suitably annoyed by people’s kindness or lack thereof on my posts. I was very touched that she did this and it warms my heart even to this day.

The pandemic took a lot from us all but for mum it took mum’s precious Philharmonic away, which I think actually was the start of her slow decline. There’s something so special isn’t there about going to see or hear a live performance? It feeds the soul. Then when her beloved sister Rosie passed in November 2023, I noticed a huge shift in mum’s energy. Aunty Rosie was her confidant and best friend and vice versa and when you lose someone like that in your 90’s, I think it’s a rough blow. In my heart I know mum missed her sister too much and her leaving this earthly plane has a lot to do with wanting to be reunited with Aunty Rosie.

While Simon and I were going through our own ordeal during this time with Simon battling lymphoma since June 2023, mum tried her best to be there for us, but I could sense her light was dimming, though I see now that she gave us everything she could. This situation with Simon and I was also breaking her heart. Simon had to go through 3 rounds of chemotherapy, had to have emergency surgery and thankfully the cancer went into remission in November last year. Then in January Simon underwent a stem cell transplant which was a gruelling 3 weeks in hospital. This procedure is brutal to say the least but Simon handled it with immense strength and calm. But a few days after he was discharged from hospital, mum had her heart attack which began the 26-day journey to her transitioning to be with her beloved maker.

At the time I couldn’t understand why this was all happening all at once but as mum always said, ‘everything happens for a reason’ and I had to trust in this. Here at home, I had Simon, barely able to walk, with a non-existent immune system – his bone marrow completely wiped out and needing time and rest to rebuild and then in KL was mum having had a heart attack, in a precarious situation. Then the Universe sent us a gift, our good friend Sunil managed to visit mum later that evening so we could face time – her first words to me, ‘Prema, you look good’ then ‘I love you both so much, I love you both so much, I love you both so much.’ Then ‘please don’t come here, please don’t come here, please don’t come here’ – something felt significant about her saying these things 3 times – the power of three. Then she saw Simon who was bald from the chemo and he said, ‘I’m bald’ and she said, ‘but you look good’. She said, ‘don’t worry, everything happens for a reason’. This was my mother – the woman who gave birth to me, the woman who loved me, the woman who did her very best to give me everything she didn’t have, the woman who thought the world of me and Simon and I knew she was saying goodbye. We told her how much we loved her and that we were taking care of everything and not to worry, but to get rested and heal up, tears streaming down all our faces. A moment so utterly painful and yet so utterly beautiful.

A week after this she caught an infection in hospital, they wanted to discharge her 3 times during her stay but, in my heart, I knew she wouldn’t want to be in an assisted care home with a feeding tube – it’s not her style! This was a stylish woman, a powerful woman, a strong and courageous woman and I did not believe that would be her fate. Nonetheless, Simon and I secured a wonderful assisted care home for mum in Bangsar and they were ready to take her in the moment she was discharged.

There is someone very, very special to us that I want to take a moment to thank and mention. Her name kept popping into my head a few days after mum was admitted, like a neon sign. I have only met her via Facebook but she is mum’s former student Dadhyanna Tan. I reached out to her to see if she knew anyone who we could hire to visit mum for us and enable video calls so we could find out what mum wanted & be with her virtually. She then told me that she had had experience with situations like this and would be honoured to help and at a hugely discounted rate. If I tell you what this lovely lady did for mum & us, you wouldn’t believe it. She mopped her brow, she played her music that I chose, she fed her water, she cleaned her hands and feet, she moisturised mum’s hands and feet, she cared for my mum as if she was her own mother, she showed her love, compassion and care. On top of that she liaised with all sorts of power-mad people who were putting blocks in our path while we were desperately trying to help sort things out for mum. She even treated those people with compassion, kindness and patience. She braved the hospital visiting procedure which was manic at best and hellish at worst. She did everything we would have done had we been there and handled (and is still handling) all the logistics. Dadhyanna deserves a huge blessing from the Universe for what she has done for this family…well, she is family now and we are so thankful to have been sent an angel in human form.

The last two weeks, mum was drifting in and out of consciousness… during one moment of clarity, she said, ‘I’m so glad Simon is better’. Then again, another day she was able to say ‘I love you’ back to me and the last thing she did was to tap her chest 3 times which I knew was another ‘I love you’.

After that she kept saying, ‘I’m very tired, let me go.’ It’s of course heartbreaking but it also showed me she was able to say what she wanted, her last sentiment of autonomy, her authentic self, having her speak her truth. I know a lot of you loved her very much and it was a wrench for you to let her go but be comforted in the fact that this is what she wanted, her choice and her reward for a life lived so fully, so courageously, so boldly, so theatrically, so musically, so vibrantly, so adventurously and all the time fighting to be her true authentic self. But all her battles were not in vain because I sit here today, writing this eulogy for my darling mother, living my authentic life, being my authentic self, without fear or apology because my mother fought for my right to be completely, authentically me. Thank you, mum, for everything, I love you so deeply and will miss you always.

So friends, family, distant relations and all who loved and cared for this wonderful, exciting woman that we know as Lily, I leave you all with a quote that is very dear to Simon and I, from our favourite author JRR Tolkien. A fitting quote as mum left this earth just as the sun was rising and as one of her former students pointed out, just as the school bells around the country were ringing the start of the school day, at 7.30am sharp… a teacher to the end.

"End? No, the journey does not end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it. White shores, and beyond. A far green country, under a swift sunrise."
JRR Tolkien