The Price of Presence, the Power of Legacy

It was already late. Almost midnight. The kind of quiet where the world feels still but your thoughts keep moving. I had just returned from Stellar Early Years Group’s Sports Day, and though my body was tired, my spirit was stirred.

That morning, my youngest son had participated alongside his classmates. I was there, but not entirely. My role as a father and my responsibilities as founder, CEO, and principal continued their quiet tug-of-war.

It is a strange kind of paradox. I cherish every moment with my children, yet somehow, in all the milestone events such as graduation concerts, Sports Days, recitals, I have always been the one watching from the side. Not in the photos. Not in the center. Always observing, never fully inside the memory.

Instead, my parents have often been the ones present. They take the photos. They cheer. They hold the moment.

And for a while, I felt a lingering guilt about that. Until something deeper surfaced.

This “absence” of mine had quietly given birth to something unexpected: a multi-generational presence.

Because I couldn’t always be there, my children had the rare blessing of having their grandparents show up instead. And it dawned on me. The very pattern I saw playing out today was the same one I experienced as a child. My grandmother had been the one cheering me on in my early years. Now, it was my parents standing in her place for my children.

It was not failure. It was continuity.

Studies in developmental psychology affirm that emotional memory forms deeper, longer-lasting impressions than cognitive memory in young children. They may not remember every game or race. But they will remember who stood beside them, who clapped the loudest, who hugged them after they stumbled.

Presence is not always about personal proximity. Sometimes, presence is a system. A legacy. A relay across generations.

And in that moment, I stopped wishing to be in the photo. I felt peace knowing I helped build the frame.

The Story Behind the Tagline

Later that afternoon, Sports Day brought another surprise. I saw a familiar face in the crowd: Ms Tharany, one of our former teachers at Stellar Early Years Group. Years ago, she had left us to work in Singapore. Life circumstances had made that move necessary. At the time, it felt like a farewell without return.

And yet, here she was.

Not as a guest. Not for work. She had taken personal leave just to be part of this moment. Just to show up. And as we talked, she said something that caught me off guard.

“I’ve already decided. I want to come back.”

She wasn’t asking for a job. She didn’t know what openings we had. But something in her spirit knew it was time. She missed the community. The mission. The family. And she wanted to return, not to escape something else, but to return to something she believed in.

Over the years, I’ve heard that same quiet conviction from many former teammates. They leave for personal growth, financial reasons, family needs. And then one day, they come back.

And that is why we say, Once a Stellarian, Always a Stellarian.

It is not a motto. It is a mindset. We do not define people by their employment status. We define them by the spirit they carry. And if that spirit aligns with our mission, their place in this family is never lost.

I once left an educational institution I cared deeply about. When I returned to visit, I was told I could not enter. “Please wait outside at the courtyard,” they said. That experience left a deep impression on me. I was not dangerous. I was simply forgotten.

In that moment, I made a vow. No one who leaves our organization in good faith should ever feel like a stranger.

Cultures that make room for return are cultures that understand what legacy truly means.

Servant Leadership Begins with the Return

When I had the opportunity to speak with Tharany, it was not an interview. There was no job offer on the table. It was just two people reconnecting. She shared her journey in Singapore, her desire to be closer to home, and the deep longing she had to contribute again to something that felt meaningful.

My only question that I was trying to figure out was: How can I add value to her life?

Not as an employer. Not as a founder. But as a fellow human being.

This, to me, is the essence of servant leadership. Before asking what someone can do for our organization, we must first ask what we can do to support their growth.

She did not know yet whether she would rejoin Stellar. But that conversation mattered. Because leadership is not about the decisions people make while they are with you. It is about whether they grow because of you, even if they are no longer under your roof.

There is a biological metaphor that has always stayed with me. The human liver, even when damaged, can regenerate up to 70% of its mass. It restores itself. Not by clinging to the past, but by reactivating its core function.

Healthy cultures are like healthy organs. They regenerate. They invite return. They rebuild without bitterness.

The FAITH to Return

Over the years, I’ve noticed something else. When someone expresses a desire to come back to Stellar, it is not just about need. It is often about alignment.

To guide these moments, I rely on a simple lens I call F.A.I.T.H.:

• Faithful: Did they serve with integrity the first time?
• Available: Are they emotionally and mentally ready now?
• Involved: Do they still carry meaningful connection to our mission?
• Teachable: Are they open to new learning and unlearning?
• Humble: Do they return with gratitude, not entitlement?

Tharany carried every one of these traits. She wasn’t seeking convenience. She was seeking purpose. She returned not because she lacked options. She returned because something in her spirit still resonated with ours.

Studies from LinkedIn show that boomerang employees often outperform new hires in both productivity and engagement. They already know the culture. They bring fresh perspective. And when they return with humility, they become bridge-builders between the past and future of your organization.

It is like the tree rings after a harsh winter. The ring may be narrower, but it is denser. Stronger. People who return after weathering seasons outside often carry more depth, not less.

Beyond Branding, Beyond Transaction

After Sports Day, I had a meeting with a brand strategist. But what stood out was not her pitch. It was her posture.

She had reviewed our materials. She asked clarifying questions. She didn’t try to impress. She tried to understand.

Before our formal discussion, we shared a meal. Over lunch, I saw something you don’t find in pitch decks: authenticity. She shared not only her process, but also her pain points. Her mistakes. Her discernment about which clients she accepts.

What struck me most was that she had not billed us a single cent. Yet she gave her full attention. She contributed generously. She even said no to certain clients in order to preserve her alignment. That takes rare discipline.

Science shows that our mirror neurons are wired to detect emotional truth. We do not just listen with our ears. We feel with our nervous system. We can tell when someone is sincere.

In that moment, I realized that our best collaborators might not be those on payroll, but those who resonate with our principles.

Every brand is a promise. Not just of service, but of trust. You don’t build trust with fonts or taglines. You build it with people.

The Reverse That Redefines It All

Here is the truth I walked away with that night:

The opposite of loyalty is not disloyalty. It is disposability.

In most organizations, people become invisible the moment they leave. But a culture that honours return is a culture that remembers. And a culture that remembers is a culture that lives.

In biology, the immune system stores memory. So does culture. Every act of grace, every open door, every welcome-back tells people: you mattered. You still do.

And as I ended the day with a quiet swim, a tired body, and a full heart, this question lingered:

If your people walked away today, would they want to come back tomorrow?

That is the real test of leadership.

Not how many you keep.

But how many would choose to return if they could.