The Woman Who Could Not Forget - the life and passing of Iris Chang

 

Will the world miss you when you are gone?

Well, unless you are famous, I really don’t think so. The world is too big to miss everyone in it. Most of us tend to get lost in 5 billion and more. 

But we will be missed by people who know us, especially those close to us. No matter how imperfect, no matter how many times we have disappointed them, they will still think of us fondly. The eulogy usually speaks for itself. 

Today’s paper is about suicide. Ex-YouTube personality, Matthew Wong-Steward, 26, opens up about suicide. 

He said that he contemplated suicide at 16. But a friend’s message “made him take a step back.” He’s married now and has a community where he can make a difference, in particular to those who are tempted to end their life prematurely. 

He said: “I have this platform to share my story. If even one person hears my story and it helps them come to terms with how they feel, I would be incredibly happy.”

Here, I recall what Robert Frost once said: “The only way around is through.” That’s so true. I can imagine we are being surrounded, at all sides, and the only way out is to confront our fear, our past - a process that, for some, will take years to overcome.

Poet John Keats calls it the “valve of our soul-making.” He calls it a school where we get roughed up by our life’s experience, and a place “where,” in the poet’s own words, “the heart must feel and suffer in a thousand diverse ways! Not merely is the Heart a Hornbook (a teaching aid), It is the Mind’s Bible, it is the Mind’s experience, it is the teat from which the mind or intelligence sucks its identity.”

Such words are powerful. They aim to connect us to a purpose beyond ourselves, to become a sum greater than our fragile parts, and to achieve a soul matured with time, seasoned by the scars of life, and driven by a higher purpose. 

Yet, the last thing I want to do is to trivialise your pain. The world is not going to suddenly turn nice just because you decide to perk up. It is more complicated than that. And for some of us, life can genuinely be difficult. The light is faint, and even diminishing, at the end of the tunnel. The day also seems longer and the nights lonelier, quieter.

For who are we kidding? For every life saved, there is one or two lost, if not more. Those who are here, those living, advocate for the living. Their journey in life is just beginning. They are renewed by a purpose bigger than themselves, and its simply refreshing. 

But for those who are not, they are gone. They will be remembered no doubt, but theirs is a life where they can take it no more. They have reached the end of their road - a point of no return. They have ironically succeeded in doing the irreversible. 

Years ago, I read a book entitled “The Woman Who Could Not forget” by Ying Ying Chang. She is the mother of the late author Iris Chang. 

Iris’ book, “The Rape of Nanking” was an impossible book to read to the end. And it is not because it is not interesting. It is just the opposite. But it is hard to read because it was painful to digest, for each page tears the soul up. And till this day, the cover still haunts me. It is definitely not for the faint-hearted. 

Iris herself wrote: -

“Though I had heard so much about the Nanking massacre as a child, nothing prepared me for these pictures - stark black-and-white images of decapitated heads, bellies ripped open, and nude women forced by their rapists into various pornographic poses, their faces contorted into unforgettable expressions of agony and shame.”

Iris was a great talent. She had great goals. In the book, her mother wrote: “Her friend asked Iris what her ultimate goal was in her life. Iris told her friend her ambition was to leave her mark in the literary world and to become a world-famous writer.” 

“The friend criticised Iris for being too individualistic. She didn’t understand why people wanted to be stars, or to be famous. Iris said to me, “What’s wrong with dreaming of the Olympic gold, or the Nobel Prize?” She continued, “What’s wrong with pushing myself to achieve my full potential?””

Well, there’s nothing wrong with pushing oneself to achieve full potential, to fulfill one’s dream. Not all of us can say that we have achieved what we have put our mind to. Some dreams die stillborn. Others are shelved aside, because, well, life happens right? 

My point however is that as tough is life, and striving for your dream, living in itself is even tougher. And before Iris shot herself on 9 Nov 2004, when she was only 36, married with a young child, she wrote this note: -

“Dear Brett, Mom, Dad and Mike: -

For the last few weeks, I have been struggling with my decision as to whether I should live or die.

As I mentioned to Brett (husband), when you believe you have a future, you think in terms of generations and years; when you do not, you live not just by the day - but by the minute.

You don’t want someone who will live out the rest of her days as a mere shell of her former self...I had considered running away, but I will never be able to escape from myself and my thoughts.

I am doing this because I am too weak to withstand the years of pain and agony ahead. Each breath is becoming difficult for me to take...

The anxiety can be compared to drowning in an open sea. I know that my actions will transfer some of this pain to others, indeed those who love me the most. Please forgive me. Forgive me because I cannot forgive myself. 

Love, Iris.”

You have to read the book written by her mother (both her parents are college professors and she had a good upbringing) to understand the life and passing of Iris Chang. There is much more to it than what this short post can offer. 

Yet, what I have learned from the book, the life of Iris Chang, and the Rape of Nanking is that the valve of one soul-making starts from within, as Iris tragically wrote, “I will never be able to escape from myself and my thoughts” and “forgive me because I cannot forgive myself”.

Suicide is a personal act. It is a choice made by the committee of one. Sometimes this committee comes in a mob-like haranguing, and at other times, it is as silent as the night. Both are powerful persuasions to live or to die. 

In living, the soul is saved, and he or she goes on to tell the encouraging, uplifting story. But in choosing otherwise, a life may be lost, yet, it is not a life lived in vain. There is also a story to be told of the passing. It is a story the living will do well to embrace, not just in tears and sorrow, but in hope and faith. 

I always believe that no life that comes from the womb and returns to the place of bliss is ever a waste. He or she is a messenger like Iris, and the story told is always a reminder for us to carry on, to continue our own story, to touch lives in our own way, and to treasure the freedom of living, and the choices that come with it. 

Yes, one day we will also go the way that many have gone before us. One life, one death. We can’t cheat either. But as long as we are still alive, we live to our fullest potential. It may not be one that leads to stardom, or wealth. It can be a simple life lived to uphold a marital vow, a friendship pact, or a faith unwavering. 

For whatever transient glory we have achieved on earth, none of that counts in the end when we just can’t let go.