When Mdm Florence Chuah’s two sisters were admitted to Dover Park Hospice, the world she knew shifted beneath her feet. They passed away two months apart. She was not just a sister to them – she was their caregiver, facing challenges she had never imagined. Her older sister’s cancer treatments had stopped working.
As a caregiver, she reminded herself that she needed to be stronger. She could not show her weaker side, or both of them would crumble. Their fragile world of hope for recovery was shattered, leaving them to face a new, uncertain chapter. It was physically, emotionally and mentally difficult. Some days she felt lost, unsure if she was doing enough or if she had the will and courage to keep going.
“As a caregiver, I had to remind myself that I needed to be stronger, I could not show my weaker side to her, or both of us would crumble.”
Dover Park Hospice became her quiet refuge. With the help of its caregiver support group, she found understanding and comfort in shared stories. She realised she was not alone. Other caregivers had experienced her fears and hopes. They helped her rediscover space to breathe, to honour her sisters and to cherish the joy and enduring love that remained. There, she was allowed to grieve, to breathe, and to feel.
“I have been on both sides. Now I want to be the person I once needed, someone who simply understands.”
After her older sister passed, a part of her felt adrift. The days felt quiet, but she was comforted by remembering the kindness they received, the gentleness in the way her two sisters were treated, and the quiet strength offered to her as a caregiver. In those final weeks with her younger sister, there was a warmth at Dover Park Hospice, and it stayed with her long after she walked out the doors for the last time. She knew she had to return because she understood what it meant to be held during life’s hardest moments.
Florence came back as a volunteer, as a small light for someone else navigating their own loss or caregiving journey. She helped wherever she could, distributing snacks and bringing warmth to inpatients and their caregivers in the wards. Now, she walks the same halls with a different purpose. Each time she steps into the hospice, she carries her sisters’ memory with her. In serving others, she found a quiet way to keep them close. What was once a place of endings had become, for her, a space where love, once received, could be given forward.