Crossing the River: A Father’s Reflection on Legacy
31 March 2025 | Reflections on Parenting, Purpose, and a Day Well Lived
5:02PM — In the Sauna with My Son
“It’s hot,” Aden says.
“You want to go out?” I ask.
He thinks about it.
“No… I want to stay here.”
I smile. He doesn’t understand why adults enjoy saunas so much. But he chooses to stay. Maybe just to be with me.
And I think—that’s so much of life.
We do things we never understood when we were younger.
Now we’re doing them with our kids.
That’s when it hit me.
We’ve Crossed the River
As a child, I never liked vegetables. I avoided exercise like the plague. I’d pour ice into Milo because I couldn’t understand how adults drank it hot like a warm hug.
I didn’t get my dad.
Didn’t get his discipline. His long hours. His strange energy after a full day of work.
Back then I’d say:
“When I grow up, I’ll be a cool dad. I won’t be like that.”
But that’s what happens when you’re on the other side of the river.
You haven’t crossed into responsibility yet.
You’re still looking at adulthood from the banks of youth.
Now I’m here.
A husband. A father of three—with a daughter on the way.
And slowly… I understand.
If I Met Myself 10 Years Ago
There’s a coaching question I love:
“What would you say to your younger self?”
I have a mentor now. Someone I hope to become when I’m 60.
If I met my 27-year-old self on the road, I’d tell him:
- “Still get a mentor.”
- “Don’t speak so fast.”
- “Don’t burn bridges just to win an argument.”
- “And don’t throw words you’ll wish you could take back.”
The world is small.
Lose one person carelessly, and you lose an entire web of relationships.
I know this now. But back then… I hadn’t crossed the river.
Boys Will Be Boys… But Fathers Must Be Anchored
This afternoon, I brought Aden for his swim. The other two boys were napping.
When they woke up?
Chaos.
Three boys. One room. You know what happened next:
Fight, fight, fight.
And I felt… agitated.
Not just because they were loud.
But because they were mine.
I cared what others would think of my kids.
That’s when I realised—I wasn’t just reacting.
I was performing.
Why I Neutered My Dog (And What It Taught Me About Parenting)
We brought Loki to get neutered. My wife looked at him and said,
“Poor thing.”
I told her, “It’s for his own good. He won’t get certain diseases. He’ll be calmer. Less agitated. People will love him more.”
And then I realised—I want that for my kids too.
Not for show.
But from within.
I want them to be shaped, not just trained.
Emotionally grounded. Secure. Whole.
Because the world rewards maturity, not noise.
The Two-Ringgit Job & the Mistake I Made
I suggested to Aden,
“Maybe you can help out at my friend’s childcare centre. RM2 per hour?”
He immediately snapped back:
“Just two ringgit? That’s too little!”
I felt my chest tighten.
I’ve been teaching them about money—value, contribution, stewardship.
So I fired back:
“You’re so entitled. You haven’t created any value and you’re already asking for more?”
Was I wrong?
Maybe not in content.
But I was wrong in context.
I forgot: he hasn’t crossed the river yet.
He hasn’t worked a job.
He hasn’t felt the dignity of earning.
He’s still imagining value from the safety of the shore.
The ABC of Fatherhood
I forgot what I’ve always believed in:
- A – Where is he now?
- B – Where do I want him to be?
- C – What bridge can I build to get him there?
I wanted him to learn humility, diligence, and value creation.
But I didn’t build the bridge.
I just yelled across the river.
And that… was my failure as a father today.
But maybe that’s what authentic leadership is.
Not perfection. But ownership.
Learning to impact… before we lead to impact.
Dog Food, Problem Solving & a Teaching Moment
Later that night, we ran out of dog food.
It’s Day 1 of Raya. Shops are closed.
We tried four, five places. Nothing.
Aden asked:
“Why is there cat food everywhere but no dog food? Are cats more popular?”
I laughed. Such an Aden thing to say.
Eventually, I messaged Ryan—he was coming from town.
Then I turned to Aden and said:
“Do you think I love Loki?”
“Yes.”
“And if I don’t give up on a dog… do you think I’ll ever give up on you?”
He paused.
“No.”
He got it.
Even dog food became a lesson.
Don’t quit. Keep trying. And never give up on the people you love.
The Quiet Guest & Unexpected Wisdom
That night, we had steamboat with close friends—Yvonne, Ryan, and a new guest.
He barely spoke. Didn’t touch his phone. Just… listened.
He said:
“I love sitting with older people. I learn so much from their stories.”
Later I found out—he once travelled from KL to Penang just to help a friend with his studies.
I told him:
“Finish your degree.
But before your Master’s—go work.
Find clarity. Then study with purpose.”
Because that was my journey too.
No Matter How Small You Feel—You Can Inspire
Back in my college days, I applied to several places.
Why?
I just wanted to teach.
To impact. To inspire.
And I learned this:
Even your used clothes—what you think is “nothing”—could be precious to someone else.
Even your “common sense” could be someone else’s revelation.
So don’t belittle yourself.
Someone is always watching.
Someone will grow… because you lived with purpose.
Purpose Is Power
I’ve read stories of people lost at sea.
Surviving weeks without food.
How?
Because they had something—or someone—to live for.
A name. A face. A reason.
Purpose removes the option of quitting.
Same goes for marriage.
Same goes for parenting.
Same goes for leadership.
On Divorce, Abortion & the World’s Illusions
We live in a world of customisation.
People treat divorce like an easy reset.
Abortion as a convenient “undo.”
But parenting doesn’t work like that.
You don’t choose your child’s personality.
You don’t even know their gender before they’re born.
You just choose to love them.
Life isn’t about customising your children.
It’s about being shaped by loving them.
Let the Day Count
Now it’s 10:24PM.
I’m walking Loki—because my wife said,
“Since you walk every night anyway… bring the dog along.”
Earlier, we laughed. Ate intentionally.
Watched our portions. Watched our hearts.
And now, as I reflect…
If I don’t wake up tomorrow, I’d still say this:
Today was a good day.
A day well lived.
A quiet story that mattered.
A legacy in progress.
Because a life well lived…
Is just a collection of days well lived.
Good night.
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