But our lives drastically changed when he was diagnosed with last-stage pancreatic cancer this past January. There were barely any symptoms; yet it had spread to multiple organs by the time the doctors found out.

The doctors gave him three to four months to live. With chemo treatments, he could get a bit more time – perhaps a few more weeks, even months.

We kicked into action, researching oncologists, the best hospitals, alternative treatments, patient care, caregiver support. It was all we could do.

At the same time, my dad quietly made the necessary arrangements. He updated his will, simplified his assets, and moved his bedroom downstairs.

He later joked to a friend that he had just made his latest asset purchase – a crematorium plot.

When chemotherapy started, he faced them with quiet perseverance. He never once complained. When we asked him how he was feeling, he would respond briefly. True to his character, he remained calm and composed throughout.

Due to the chemo treatments, he became physically weak and could not stand up by himself. One day, in the process of trying to help him up, he fractured his arm.

When I learnt about this, I called him crying. Funnily enough, he was the one who had to comfort me, and even urged me to call him back after I had calmed down.

With a newborn in tow, I tried my best to spend time with him every day. While he still could, we played mahjong, as we had done for many years before the diagnosis.

After he fractured his arm, I did not bring the game up anymore.

He had many friends and colleagues who cared for him. When people learnt about his condition, he was inundated with requests for visits. Friends sent messages encouraging him, and all of us, to stay strong.

Later, they also sent short videos to lift his spirits. When he was bedridden, I played these videos to him one by one. They meant a lot to him.

My dad’s body steadily weakened, and he passed away peacefully on May 27, exactly four months after his diagnosis.

We will forever be grateful for all the support from our friends and family, as well as representatives from Aspac Palliative Care and the National Cancer Society.

Pancreatic cancer is an aggressive and unforgiving disease. The doctors and treatments could only do their best.

This wasn’t how we had planned to spend 2025. We will miss him every day, but we are glad he is no longer in pain.

Samantha Chow is a former journalist. She will always remember her beloved father for his love and bravery in facing this disease.