In a society where death is often avoided, the writer says that the ‘Thread Of Life’ installation offered a gentle, compassionate space for reflection. (Right) The writer says it was comforting to see so many Malaysians, silently and honestly, acknowledging that meaning lies in people and experience, not status. — Photos: CHONG WEI YING
When I walked into The Club at Bukit Utama on Sept 13, 2025, for Kasih Hospice Foundation’s 20th Anniversary Season Of Life Festival, I expected a warm, community-centred wellness event.
I did not expect to confront my own thoughts about life, death and meaning. Yet that was exactly what happened – because of a simple installation called the Thread Of Life.
From a distance, it looked almost childlike: coloured threads, neatly arranged pins, and boards printed with short statements. A volunteer invited me to participate by answering five reflective questions about life, death and what matters most. Each question was represented on a board, and the task was straightforward – choose a coloured thread, read the prompts, and loop the thread around the answer that resonated.
It sounded easy. But standing there with a thread in my hand, I hesitated. One of the first questions read: “What does death mean to you?” I was not prepared to face that on a Saturday morning.
The writer says it was comforting to see so many Malaysians, silently and honestly, acknowledging that meaning lies in people and experience, not status. — CHONG WEI YING
As others beside me began looping their threads, I decided to begin. My thread landed on: Death is a reminder that I should appreciate my life. As I secured it, something shifted. The board was already dense with threads converging on the same answer. I realised how many people shared the same reflection – that death, rather than being only something to fear, could also be a call to live with intention.
The next question: “What does life mean to you?” The answers ranged from poetic to disarmingly honest – the reason I exist in this world; the journey I experience until I lose all senses; the footsteps I leave in people I care about; and a blank portrait on which I can create my artwork.
Strangers stood nearby, quietly comparing choices. An elderly man chuckled, “Thirty years, still figuring it out.” A young woman whispered to her friend, “I never talk about things like this at home.” Neither did I.
Another question asked us to identify the most important thing in our lives. Unsurprisingly, material wealth attracted few threads. Instead, clusters formed around harmony among kinship; attainment of life wisdom; and pursuing my own dream. It was comforting to see so many Malaysians, silently and honestly, acknowledging that meaning lies in people and experience, not status.
The question that struck me hardest was: “What is your greatest fear about death?” After a long pause, I chose: I cannot see my loved one again. Other popular responses included fears of unrealised dreams, losing one’s influence, or the unknown afterlife. Yet many threads circled one calm statement: No, I am not fearful to face my death. A Kasih Hospice volunteer later shared that those who chose it often cited faith, acceptance or life experience.
What moved me most was how naturally conversation emerged. Strangers exchanged stories – a woman who lost a parent during the pandemic, a student who admitted death felt “pantang” to discuss at home. In a society where death is often avoided, the installation offered a gentle, compassionate space for reflection.
By midday, the board resembled a living artwork – threads of yellow, red, blue and green woven into a map of shared humanity. Quiet and meditative, the Thread Of Life was profoundly moving. I left with more than I expected – reminded that beneath our busy lives, we share the same longing: to live meaningfully, to love fully, and to leave something that matters.
The writer is an academic at Taylor’s University and believes in creating compassionate spaces where conversations about life, death and meaning can bring people closer together.
