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Memory

She Designed My Wedding Invitation

I want to keep my name private out of respect for her family, who do not know me well. Mei-Ling designed my wedding invitation as a favour, as a friend of a friend. She spent three weeks on something she was not paid for and refused payment when I offered it. She sent me five versions, each one better than the last, with very quiet notes about why she had made each choice. The invitation was more beautiful than anything I could have imagined. I still have it. I still think about the care that went into it.
Anonymous · 8 Jun 2026
Memory

At the Yoga Class

I met Mei-Ling at a yoga class in Dalston three years ago and we became the kind of friends who arrive early and stay late, getting in the teacher's way. She was calm in a way I aspired to and she was completely unsentimental about it — she did not talk about peace as a destination, just as something you returned to when you remembered. She gave me a book about Buddhist practice once without any recommendation attached, just "I thought you might like this." She was right.
Sunita Pillai · 8 Jun 2026
Memory

The Flat on Queensbridge Road

We were flatmates for three years and I learned things from living with Mei-Ling that I use every day. She was the most organised person I have shared a space with — not rigidly, but in a way that made the space work for both of us. She had very few possessions but chose each one carefully. Her desk was always clear except for the sketchbook and a glass of water. She said clutter made it hard to think. I have been clearing my own desk ever since.
Yuki Nakamura · 8 Jun 2026
Memory

The Dumplings

Every Chinese New Year, Mei-Ling made dumplings. This was not a casual activity. It began the evening before with the preparation of the filling — pork and prawn, her grandmother's recipe — and continued the next morning with the folding, which she did with a precision that was somewhat intimidating to watch. She taught me to fold and I was terrible at it and she was very patient about this. She never made fewer than two hundred. There were never leftovers.

The Dumplings
Jing Wei · 8 Jun 2026
Eulogy

What I Want People to Know

Mei-Ling was my closest friend for eleven years. We met on the first day of the foundation course at Central Saint Martins and I knew quite quickly that she was the kind of person you do not let drift out of your life. She was quiet in a way that is easy to misread. She was not shy. She was paying attention. She absorbed things — a conversation, a piece of music, a tree — at a depth that most of us do not manage. And then she made things from what she had absorbed. Her sketchbooks, which I have now been asked to help archive, are extraordinary. She drew what she saw, but what she saw was not what everyone else was looking at. She had been meditating seriously since she was twenty-two. She talked about it without pretension or evangelism — she just did it, the way she did everything she committed to. I went on one retreat with her in Scotland and she sat for six hours in a way that looked entirely natural. Afterwards she was hungry and made tea and was completely normal. I am going to miss her for a very long time. I am going to miss the particular quality of being known by her, which was gentle and non-negotiable and irreplaceable. I hope she knows how much light she left behind.
Jing Wei · 8 Jun 2026
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