Loong received a pancreatic cancer diagnosis in October 2022.

As the tumour continued to grow and spread, he faced his treatments with his trademark stoicism, and humour.

Loong was transferred to St. Luke's Hospice on Monday 11th December where he and the family were looked after with outstanding professionalism, dignity, and care.

Loong passed away in the early hours of Tuesday 19th December 2023 at St. Luke's with his wife and two sons by his side.

The Cause

As a family, we have now had the misfortune to require the services of a hospice a few times, but the good fortune to have access to such services.

Hospices provide a comforting, and comfortable environment for end-of-life care. St. Luke's is only 40% funded by the NHS and relies on the generosity of others to operate.

The Funeral

The funeral service was held on Friday 29th December at 10am at Breakspear Crematorium.

Your kind thoughts and words, friendship and love, and/or presence at Loong's service and wake, if able to attend, were all greatly appreciated.

However, if you are inclined to honour his memory in a more concrete way, the hospice has provided us and so many other patients and families with comfort and love at the hardest points of their lives.

Any charitable donation in lieu of flowers or gifts would help the hospice continue their incredible work.

The Eulogies

Opening (Jason)

Music: Adios Amigo, Jim Reeves

Thank you all for coming, dearest friends and family. We’re thankful for you all taking the time to be here, to celebrate and say goodbye to Dad.

On the way in, you would’ve heard Adios Amigo by Jim Reeves, one of Dad’s favourite artists. An apt song to say goodbye to a friend on this day.

For those whom I haven’t met, or as a reminder for those I haven’t seen in 20 years, I’m Jason or Yiing, the eldest son of the Chuei clan.

In line with Dad’s general philosophy on not wasting money, we decided for me to be the celebrant for today, so please forgive any stumbles in advance.

One of the last things Dad said to me, whilst he was in bed in hospital two weeks ago, was “Do what you want. When you want. You never know when it’s too late”. Today will likely be an emotional day, so in that spirit, please let your emotions flow. Cry if you want to cry. Smile at a fond memory if you want to smile. Laugh at a funny story if you want to laugh.

I love that this was one of Dad’s last messages. “Do what you want. When you want”. An experience like this really brings that home. Dad definitely lived by this philosophy. Just that what he wanted to do was mostly stay at home. Or perhaps, be in the shed, creating some magnificent engineering feats. The shed, of course, was something that he also built himself!

Dad, Wing Loong Chuei, was born on the 21st November 1948, in Kuching, Malaysia. He was one of nine siblings. Dad met Mum when they were in high school, and they followed each other around the world.

They studied at National Taiwan University together, and both came to London in the early 70s for a better life for themselves and their future children - my brother, Doun, and myself.

Dad was a kind and generous soul. He was courageous and selfless, always putting us all before himself. He loved us dearly, and we will always love him dearly too.

The Chuei family are mostly a pretty easygoing family. So we’ll try to make today lighthearted, with a mix of thanks, fond memories, and funny stories. We’ll have a few words from Doun, the second son in the clan, followed by a few close friends whom we affectionately, or perhaps offensively, term the “Oldies Gang”. A group of Mum and Dad’s close friends who eat together, holiday together, road trip together, and even hot tub together.

A funny anecdote from me before I pass on to the more eloquent speakers. Another thing Dad said to me whilst in hospital.

“Mum loves Japan, please take her there,” he said wishfully.

“Yes, I will Dad, hopefully next year,” I replied reassuringly.

“And, find her a daughter-in-law,” he said straight -faced.

“I’ll try,” I replied smiling.

“Try harder!” he exclaimed!

Looking out for us with a sense of humour, up until the end.

I’ll now pass to Doun to say a few words.

Eulogy I (Doun)

The saying goes that a man dies twice. Once, when he takes his last breath. And again, the last time someone thinks of him.

So I’d like to talk to you all about what I think about, when I think about dad.

A tough man that loved cats. Dad was born in Kuching, also known as Cat City, which is appropriate, because he loved cats and cats loved him. Exhausted from chemo and cancer, he’d happily spend visits with our smaller cat Meen Meen in his lap, dozing (dad), purring and licking herself (the cat), and gently breaking wind (luckily mostly the cat).

One of the few times I saw him cry was when our first and oldest cat Hu Hu passed away. Actually, dad was never the quickest to express his feelings, whether emotional or physical. He had an extraordinary tolerance for physical pain and could be stubborn to a fault.

A recent CT scan identified an old and previously unnoticed fracture in his spine. “Oh! I think I remember doing that”, he remarked dismissively.

As a child I would watch him working away in his shed / workshop. Once, his finger ended up underneath a circular saw, slicing it to the bone. Gushing blood, I fetched him some Tian Qi Fen – a type of herbal remedy - which he packed into his wound, before dutifully continuing to work like nothing had happened.

So what else do I think about, when I think about dad?

A skilled carpenter that lived by “waste not want not”. I think about dad in that shed, crafting toys and racing car bedframes for our home, and trophy cases and coffee tables for friends.

He continued even as he became weaker, now working on projects for his grandson Dylan. On breaks he would cart Dylan around the garden in a wheelbarrow, to delighted laughter from them both.

Dad came to the UK in 1972 to pursue a Masters in Structural Engineering. He struggled at first, lacking the network and background to reach the success his skills and work ethic deserved, and often as the only Chinese face in the workplace.

So times were hard - not that dad would ever let us know. Dad would walk miles rather than spending 4 pence on the bus fare. Professional entertainment was clearly out of the question. Instead, he would teach himself tricks and on birthdays don ridiculous magician or clown outfits. It was years before I realised that the home made hats, slightly wonky tricks, and the meticulously, professionally carved toys were both symbols of his love for us and often a financial necessity.

Years before helping manage major projects at Transport for London - the Jubilee Line Extension, Heathrow Terminal 5, and the Elizabeth Line - he was a junior engineer and would painstakingly save for a biennial summer family trip to Malaysia. Once in Kuching, we'd whine about the heat, and the mosquitoes, and having to squeeze four to a room in grandma's house.

It must have hurt to hear us so ungrateful, but if he was ever annoyed, he never showed it. Instead, he would quietly recoup some of the airfare, by encouraging us to sneak “souvenirs” of cutlery, glasses, and even blankets into our pockets and bags.

But what I think about most, when I think about dad, is this:

A loving family man, especially for mum

Mum and dad met as classmates at the age of 15. He told her then that he would marry her. And marry her he did, in a small ceremony in Fulham in July of 1974.

From diagnosis, through various treatments, and to the end, Dad was much more concerned about family than his own comfort or mortality.

Speaking to us each in turn in the hospital then hospice, he remarked on his poor timing, apologising for ruining Christmas for the family.

When he had time alone with mum, he told her that if he had the chance to do it all again, he’d do it all again with her. And he apologised that he wasn’t going to make it to their upcoming 50th wedding anniversary, or the birth of their second grandchild in April.

Turning to me, he whispered “Doun”. I leaned in close. “Mum has a fixed rate savings account expiring soon but you can reinvest at 5.8%. Make sure you sort that out because that’s a really good rate”.

A couple of days later, with his reminders to look after mum issued, Dad passed away peacefully, with Mum, Yiing, and me at his bedside.

I will leave you now with some words scribbled on a blackboard in that hospice that have stuck with me:

“How lucky we are to have loved so much that makes saying goodbye so hard”.

Goodbye dad.

Reflection (Jason)

It’s time now for a moment of reflection as we listen to Xiexie Ni (“Thank you”) by Dao Lang. Please take a moment to think about a fond memory you had with Dad.

Music: Xiexie Ni, Dao Lang

Eulogy II (Ben)

We were the travelling gang of six.

Exactly two months ago, we were all in Dorset. During one of our Gin Rummy sessions, we jokingly started praising Loong. It slowly became a laughing competition. He must have liked it, saying, ‘Are you preparing for my eulogy?’.

We all burst out laughing even louder. We had not seen him happier for a long while.

It was nice to see a glimpse of his old self. It was the best October night and it was our saddest last trip together.

The Loong we know was humble, caring, generous, fun-loving, charitable and always willing to help others.

He was a good-hearted family man, blessed with loving family members.He was so proud of Dylan, his grandson. I loved the video of of them playing harmonica.

Our lives are touched by him in more ways than one.

He taught us never to give up hope, when hope is all you have. When I asked how he was feeling, he would simply say "I just have to soldier on".

He was a fighter right to the last and never one for pity.

Loong was an extraordinary man, full of talents. A very capable engineer, carpenter and artist.

In life, if you are lucky, you may come across many friends, but a true friend like Loong, well, that is rare.

We shared so many happy memories together. I can see both of us under an umbrella, laughing in the rain... barbecuing. Another of him throwing a stick up a chestnut tree, only to run away covering his head.

My last memory of him was heartbreaking. With tears in our eyes, we hugged each other, knowing deep down that it would be for the last time.

Yes, our gang of six will never be the same again, there may be an empty chair at our next rummy session.

There may be one less laughter in our group but Loong has filled our hearts with so much love and memories.

So when we next travel he shall see what we see and feel what we feel, for in our hearts he has never left us.

I will end with this rendition that aptly fits Loong.

And now the end is here

And so I face that final curtain

My friend I’ll make it clear

I’ll state my case, of which I’m certain

I’ve lived a life that’s full

I travelled each and every highway

And more, much more than this

I did it my way

Goodbye Ta Ker. Goodbye good friend.

Eulogy III (Sukum)

I will now say a few words from myself and on behalf of my wife Dow.

I’d like to begin by saying we feel honoured to be here with all of you to celebrate Loong’s life.

Loong was a unique and special person, I am sure you will all agree.

My wife and I were very lucky to have travelled to many places with Loong, Wan and many of our other friends. When the six of us travelled we would call ourselves the six musketeers!

We have made so many fond memories. To start the trip, Loong would always book our taxi to the airport. Without fail he would ask us if we remembered our passports!

He was always thinking of us. When we were walking through crowds, he would always be looking behind and checking we were all there and none of us had got lost in the crowds – especially Dow!

Although Loong would himself often get lost! He was our beloved photographer and would sometimes get left behind so it would be our turn to go and get him.

Loong absolutely loved ice cream and would request we get ice cream everywhere we go! We would jokingly ask Wan, has Loong been a good boy? Is he allowed one? This would always make Loong smile and of course Wan would always answer yes!

Loong was always so considerate and caring. Living nearby, we were lucky enough to be Loong’s guinea pig when it came to his food experiments! Whether it was sesame snaps, Chinese doughnuts (il jagwoi), dried pork (pagwoi), spum sorbet and all kinds of noodles! His thoughtfulness and generosity were endless.

The world is a sadder place without Loong in our lives, but he touched each and every one of us and has left us with memories we will cherish forever.

The six musketeers are now five, but you will always be with us wherever we go. And we will forever think of you every ice cream we eat, every game of gin rummy we play and every time one of us gets lost in the crowds.

Rest in Peace Loong.

I will now read a short poem dedicated to Loong:

DON’T THINK OF HIM AS GONE AWAY

HIS JOURNEY’S JUST BEGUN,

LIFE HOLDS SO MANY FACETS

THE EARTH IS ONLY ONE.

JUST THINK OF HIM AS RESTING

FROM THE SORROWS AND THE TEARS

IN A PLACE OF WARMTH AND COMFORT

WHERE THERE ARE NO DAYS AND YEARS.

THINK HOW HE MUST BE WISHING

THAT WE COULD KNOW TODAY

HOW NOTHING BUT OUR SADNESS

CAN REALLY PASS AWAY.

AND THINK OF HIM AS LIVING

IN THE HEARTS OF THOSE HE TOUCHED…

FOR NOTHING LOVED IS EVER LOST

AND HE WAS LOVED SO MUCH.

Close (Jason)

Thank you again everyone for making the time to say farewell to Dad. The wonderful human being.

As we close, we’ll play My Way by Frank Sinatra. Another one of Dad’s favourites, and Dad’s last message to us all.

Have few regrets.

Challenge yourself by sometimes biting off more than you can chew.

Stand tall.

Say how you truly feel.

Be yourself and do life your way.

Thank you for everything Dad. Love you.

Please join us for the wake at home to celebrate Dad’s life.

Thank you.

Music: My Way, Frank Sinatra