With the greatest sadness and broken hearts we have to tell you that our wonderful and lovely Sonata became an angel on Sunday, June 14, 2015. She had been bravely fighting for her life for more than 6 years. She loved everyone around her – her friends, her teachers, her doctors, her nurses. She enjoyed her life and always had a hope in life. As her mom and dad, her grandma and grandpa, we are proud of her! We are filled with the feelings that she is always near. We will keep all the happiness she gave us forever.
我们怀着沉痛的心情向大家宣布我们的最爱 Sonata 在2015年6月14日离开了我们。在病痛折磨她的6年多里，她很勇敢地接受了一次又一次的治疗，忍受了常人难以忍受的痛苦，可她从来都没有哭喊过一次。她永远是把她最美的一面展现给大家。她喜欢我们这个家，喜欢她身边所有的人，包括她的亲戚、她的朋友、她的老师、她的医生和她的护士。她热爱每一天，对生活充满美好的梦想。即便在她病重的时候，她还是保持乐观，坚信将来一定会好起来。作为她的家人，我们为她骄傲。她走了，留给了我们永远的痛和无尽的想念。我们觉得她还一直在我们的身边。
> Funeral Service / 告别仪式
Thank you all who loves Sonata / 感谢所有爱 Sonata 的人
> From Sonata’s parents / Sonata爸爸妈妈的话
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It was such a pleasure to get to know you while you were on our unit. You brought so much light and laughter to 3F everyday.
Your smile and positive attitude will be remembered always along with your 'ode to bed' poem.
Caring for you in hospital was a privilege, memories of time spent with you will stay with me all of my days.
You smiled your smile and laughed your infectious laugh in the path of adversity, you stood tall, proud and brave in the face of pain and suffering.
Your huge generous heart should be a lesson to us all. You will forever be a credit to your wonderful and loving family - Laura x
Your last essay still sits on my desktop. I have not yet marked it. It is hard to believe that you are gone, that I will no longer tutor you on Skype every Friday. You improved so much in the last year that I often wondered how much more I had to teach you. You rose to any challenge, any new lesson, no matter how difficult, and accordingly, challenged me as a teacher in the best ways possible. I found myself inspired to come up with more complex lessons or to adapt university-level concepts and material to your high school curriculum.
Still now, so many days later, I cannot believe that you will not text me to say, "Are we still having a lesson this Friday?" or "Ahh this essay topic is sooo hard!" Still, you linger, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, forever cheerful, forever hopeful, in my mind's eye as I recite the notes to other students, notes that I never had to dumb down for you. I hear you groan at the words you penned in preparation for an exam you will never now write. Words that you thought were too cheesy and clunky and imperfect, but which you let me save so that I could show other students and hear them say, "Wow!" I want you to know that I still use your narrative essay as an exemplar for my other students. And I want you to know that every single one of them have responded with, "Omg, this is so good. I wish I could write like that." I want you to know that you have inspired and will continue to inspire students for years to come.
You never let yourself be defined by your illness. In our lessons, you never once complained that you were feeling sick or tired or that you needed a break, but focused always instead on a future brimful with possibilities. And at this moment of exam preparation, when students are in full-fledged agitation, memorization and hand-wringing over trying to come up with a convincing and touching personal narrative of learning, pain, and survival, all I can think about is how, amidst the relentless tubes and needles and beeping machines, you told an indignant tale
about the mom next room who stole your yogurt.
So how can I say goodbye? How can I say goodbye when your last essay still sits unmarked on my desktop, and my last text message to you was "see you friday"? What can I say in response to the news? What condolences, what words of comfort do not ring hollow in the face of your family’s devastation? What cheesy, clunky, imperfect words are left that have not already echoed in the empty air a hundred thousand times and littered the ground like bandaids fallen off a gaping wound? What words are there to cauterize heartbreak?
I do not know. But I open Skype, and I can see the pop-up singing "Sonata Shi is video-calling you." I click accept, the call connects, and your face appears on the screen, wide-eyed, forever cheerful, forever hopeful, trilling an upbeat "Hi!" and "I'm good!" when I ask how you're doing. And I hear you say that you wish you could write like me and that I inspire you, but really, truly, you were the one who inspired me. And now you are gone, and I will miss you more than you could ever imagine. Sonata, your last essay still sits on my desktop. I will not mark it. But I won't delete it either.
视频里你银铃般的欢声笑语依在， 童时和Angela一起玩跷跷板，因失去平衡双双翻滚在地， 却依旧快活无限。告诉我，去哪里寻你，再现你与小伙伴间无拘无束的追逐和叫喊。
芭蕾课上，你认真，投入。一举手一抬足无不显露舞者的风范。 课下又欢畅的加入小伙伴的热聊，唧唧咋咋好不热闹。 告诉我，去哪里寻你， 好多小伙伴还在期待你的加入。
You lit up a room and everyone loved you. You always had a smile on your face and would always laugh at my jokes. I feel honoured having known you and every day I will appreciate more having known you.
I'm so, so sorry.
I'm so sorry I never bothered to call you again. I'm so sorry I let that fight build a giant wall between us.
I'm so sorry I somehow thought my happiness was worth more than your well-being.
I'm so sorry I'm so selfish.
I keep hearing people telling me that I should write my feelings down, that'll it'll bring me peace to mind. My mom just came into my room not long ago, telling me that everyone else had already written their letters. But I don't know what to say. You were always the strong-minded person, the one who always had goals and knows exactly what to say. Words were your thing. Even know, without your beating heart, you can probably strings words to sense better than I.
This message is just full of regret and hatred. I hate those stories of when people die, they suddenly become the centre of glory and everyone suddenly became their best friend. I hate myself for being that person, exactly. How I didn't talk to you towards the end.
I feel like I don't even deserve to grieve.
I hate the flowers I had to pick for you. "What's her favourite colour?" the florist asked. Like picking dead beautiful flowers, sticking them together into a bouquet will make things better.
Dead flowers for dead people, I guess.
I would ask your forgiveness, for my stupidity, but you're a little too dead for me to do that. I'm just gonna hope you didn't hate me completely. I deeply cherish the memories we had. So, so many memories. Memories that dates back to the time since we began to walk. Our friendship wasn't perfect, but it was amazing still. I know my memory isn't great, and most of my childhood is fuzzy in my brain, but the moments with you are bright patches in my mind.
I'll never forget you.