I wrote about my mother’s corticobasal degeneration syndrome diagnosis and recent, rapid decline at the start of the year. We were aware that her accelerated deterioration meant that she may only have a few months left with us — in fact it turned out to be a matter of days, and she passed away peacefully at home on Tuesday 21st January. Thankfully, my father, my sister and I were all able to be with her, even if she was non-verbal on her final day. Mum had made clear that she wanted to remain at home — something that I confess I thought may be unrealistic — and my dad has been incredible in caring for her in a way that granted her the manner of death she desired. With a disease that robbed such a strong-willed woman of both her independence and enjoyment of life, I am amazed by the dignity she exhibited and thankful that she did not have to suffer in that state for longer. Her funeral will be held on 13 February 2025.

Prema grew up in Chavakacheri in the Jaffna peninsula at the north of Sri Lanka, during a troubled period in the country’s conflict between the Tamil population in the north and the Sinhalese majority in the south. Her father died when she was still a child, and as a teenager she moved with her mother, Annaledchumy, and two older brothers, Chandran and Rajan, to the UK. In fact, unbeknownst to one another, she and my father arrived in the country just two days apart. They met at Imperial College where she studied maths and he studied engineering — had they remained in Sri Lanka they would likely never have met. She made a number of lifelong family friends at university with whom she remained close until her final days, but she also remained in touch with a number of schoolfriends from Jaffna. Maintaining family connections and friendships was important to mum and she made efforts to do so even as phone use — and then communication — became increasingly difficult. I think her skill was balancing genuine interest in the minutiae of people’s lives with a non-judgmental ear. This was most evident from the number of calls we received from Canadian relatives within hours of mum’s death, the news spreading rapidly across the diaspora network.

Her brothers’ families all settled around London and we have remained extremely close, attested by plenty of grainy home videos. By contrast my father’s family were spread around the globe and their marriage in 1981 gifted mum with an American sister-in-law, Manel, who became one of her closest friends. Mum was keen to ensure we felt as close to dad’s side of the family despite the distance and we made frequent trips to the USA and Sri Lanka. I remember first noticing in the USA how Mum positively lit up whenever she held children — initially with Jenna’s children — though none would induce that reaction moreso than her grandson, David. She also had a certain rebellious streak that I did not recognise as a child. It came out in the strangest ways like her compulsive cheating at games, and her inability to understand why others were so frustrated when — from her perspective — they had exactly the same opportunity to cheat.

I cannot think of my mum without also thinking of her delectable chicken curry — and her exasperation when I would sneak into the kitchen devour half of a freshly cooked batch that she intended to freeze, even if she recognised it as a compliment. Eventually she just wrote off a few pieces that she knew would go astray. That chicken has remained my comfort food as an adult, albeit my own recipe is a lazier method that produces a passable imitation. Without fail when I visited, and despite my protestations, mum would have several boxes of food to send home with me. In the last few years I had to remind her that I would much rather she was awake when I visited than have been slaving over a stove until the early hours of the morning!

Prema spent almost the entirety of her career at Philips as a computer analyst, save for a brief stint at The Woolwich because Philips would not hold a position for her when she took extended maternity leave — before ultimately realising that they needed her to return! Whilst she enjoyed great friendships with many of her colleagues, I am very thankful that she took early retirement so that she was able to enjoy herself before illness intervened. A sign of mum’s fierce independence was her decision to embark on a post-retirement solo road-trip through America. Many expressed concern at the dangers it might pose but she was undaunted. She loved to travel and explore, and I am particularly glad that she and dad took a trip to the Galápagos Islands (of which I and my camera are very jealous). Even after illness affected her balance, she would still walk several miles a day and organised a family hiking holiday to Wales — those holidays were a regular feature of my childhood, and I am glad that David was able to experience one with his grandmother.

I knew that mum was well-loved, of course, and expected the outpouring of condolence messages; what I had not anticipated was the number of photographs I would receive showing off mum’s creations. She was a talented seamstress and an avid cross-stitcher, and she was wonderfully generous with her skills. She loved to make dresses and sweaters for family members and as a child I remember being asked me to model them so that she could check sizes (though any suggestion that photographic evidence exists is pure conjecture). That generosity was not limited to family and many of my own university friends found their children gifted with handmade clothing. Perhaps more accurately, knowing how important those people were to me, she treated them as part of her family. The walls of my parents’ house are adorned with her highly detailed cross-stitch work, and I can easily picture her working on projects late into the night while watching Tamil films.

I already miss mum horribly but my view of death is that people are never truly gone as long as others continue to carry their influence and their impact into the world. In that, while we mourn her passing, it is also apparent that Prema will be around for a very long time indeed.