From rivals to lovers, best friends and confidante.....till Madam Kwa's death do them part.
In October 2008, after Madam Kwa suffered her second stroke, Mr Lee knew that if she survived, she would never be able to walk independently.
Dr Lee Wei Ling, his daughter, wrote:
"...he felt that so long as she knew she was an important part of his life, she would still find life worth living.
He told her: ‘We have been together for most of our lives. You cannot leave me alone now. I will make your life worth living in spite of your physical handicap.’
She replied: ‘That is a big promise.’
Papa said: ‘Have I ever let you down?’ "
At Madam Kwa's funeral service, Mr Lee walked to her casket and placed a stalk of red rose.
Then, gripping the sides of the casket for support, he reached for his beloved Choo's face with his right hand.
He brought his hand back, kissed his fingers and placed them on her forehead. Twice.
In his eulogy to her, he said, “Without her, I would be a different man, with a different life. She devoted herself to me and our children. She was always there when I needed her.
“She has lived a life full of warmth and meaning. I should find solace in her 89 years of life well lived. But at this moment of the final parting, my heart is heavy with sorrow and grief.”
Madam Kwa's death left a great void in his heart.
For a week after his wife died, Mr Lee Kuan Yew fussed over her photographs on the wall of the living room at their Oxley Road home.
He placed pictures of their favourite moments together at the foot of his bed and by the treadmill which he used every day. A few days later, he would move them around again.
He repositioned his grey plastic chair at the dining table to have the best view of her pictures on the wall. As he ate his dinner, he listened to classical music, which she enjoyed - her favourite composer was Johann Sebastian Bach.
But nothing seemed to comfort Mr Lee in the days after Madam Kwa Geok Choo, his wife of 63 years, his best friend and confidante, died on Oct 2, 2010.
He slept erratically. A memory would bring tears to his eyes. When her ashes arrived at Oxley Road in a grey marble urn three days after the funeral, he wept.
It took three months before he began returning to normal.
"Slowly, he accepted that Mrs Lee was gone," said his youngest and only surviving brother, Dr Lee Suan Yew.
It was nine months before his health stabilised, said his only daughter Wei Ling.
One day, Dr Lee Wei Ling saw a note at home that is addressed to all three of Mr Lee's children.
The note read:
‘For reasons of sentiment, I would like part of my ashes to be mixed up with Mama’s, and both her ashes and mine put side by side in the columbarium. We were joined in life and I would like our ashes to be joined after this life.’
In his death, they were united again - never to part.
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