My father was born in 1930 in Guangdong Province, China, during a time of immense historical turmoil. At the tender age of three, his life was uprooted when he was sold to a childless couple living in Singapore.
The chaos of his early years did not end with his displacement. The outbreak of World War II completely shattered his primary school education, forcing him into the workforce immediately after the war just to survive, as his foster parents, having retired in their textile business, wanted him to earn on his own.
My father’s entire life became a masterclass in sheer resilience. He worked tirelessly in retail sales, managed storefronts, and eventually started his own clothing and socks stalls in Chinatown.
Despite having little formal schooling, he possessed an incredible street-smart intelligence. Beyond his native Hakka dialect, he managed to learn 6 languages: Cantonese, Hokkien, Teochew, Mandarin, English, and Malay, entirely on his own. He could converse fluently with any customer who walked into his stall, though he could only read Chinese.
At the age of 21, through a traditional match-made arrangement, he married a young woman (my mum) from China. It was a union built to last; they remained devotedly married for 57 years until he passed away in 2008.
A Lifetime of Delayed "Firsts"
By modern standards, my father’s routine would seem almost punishingly monotonous. He worked his whole life and never knew the luxury of a real holiday. For decades, his only escape from the relentless grind was going to the beach at Beach Road just to feel the ocean breeze.
The typical milestones of a well-traveled life only reached him when he was already an elderly man:
In 1981, well past his 50s, he went on his very first overseas tour to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, which later opened the door to his second trip back to China.
In 1993, right after my marriage solemnization ceremony, I brought both my parents and my in-laws to 'Jack's Place', a Western restaurant at Bras Basah Complex. Sitting at the table, this man in his 60s looked around and softly remarked that this was the first time (at age of 63) in his life eating a Western meal in a proper restaurant.
In 2007, just one year before illness claimed his life, I managed to arrange a cruise holiday for my parents. Standing on the deck, looking out at the open sea, he gave his usual, unvarnished review: "First time in my life going up on a cruise."
My father worked until his body couldn't anymore. He left behind no massive bank accounts, no grand assets, and very few holiday photos. But he left behind a sprawling, vibrant family with many children and grandchildren who were fed, educated, and protected by his quiet exhaustion.
Love Intelligence Reflection:
In Love Intelligence (LQ), we learn to evaluate a life by its core Purpose.
If you measure a life by secular metrics: accumulated wealth, property, or the number of passport stamps, my father’s existence might look like one of lack. But high LQ teaches us a different math:
A full life is measured by how many people you shield with your existence, not how much you consume for your own comfort.
My father lived a life of absolute No Regrets. He didn't look back with bitterness at the vacations he missed; he looked forward at the family he built.
Sitting here in 2026, after writing 13 articles of confession, reflection, and tribute, I realize that I, too, have found my peace. He left this world with a full heart, and I can finally say I have no regrets.
This Father's Day, I challenge you to look at the missing "firsts" in your parents' lives. Don't wait for a perfect time: give them those beautiful memories while they are still here to experience them.
This is the 13th article dedicated to honoring my late father and applying the principles of Love Intelligence to the relationships that shape our souls.
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