For decades, we viewed my late father through a lens of frustration, easily slapping labels on his behavior.
When we found a massive heap of unwinning 4D tickets under his mattress, we blamed greed.
When he frantically flipped between Channel 8 and Channel U, we snapped at his "inconsiderate" restlessness.
When he ordered afternoon coffee and kaya toast for himself while the Chinatown stalls were buzzing, we whispered that he was selfish.
Today, in 2026, a deeper wisdom has found me. True Love Intelligence (LQ) is the ability to peel back these surface-level judgments and decode the quiet cries for help underneath.
My father wasn't chasing wealth; he was a retiree with no income, chasing the dignity of financial independence because we rarely gave him pocket money. He wasn't being inconsiderate with the television; he was a lonely senior suffering from a biological dopamine deficiency, desperate for a spark of connection in a house where the phone rarely rang.
We spent years magnifying his perceived flaws while completely minimizing his staggering sacrifices.
We took the roof over our heads for granted, forgetting that after our shoe shop was robbed, he spent three long years sleeping on rough wooden planks alongside cockroaches and rats just to secure our livelihood.
He bent his waist remarkably low on the hot concrete of Trengannu Street to serve strangers, silently sweating so his children could stand tall, afford university, and buy their own homes.
Even his afternoon coffee wasn't selfishness; it was the realization of 君子不器—that a man is not a tool to be utterly empty. He knew that by caring for his own boundaries first, he unlocked the sustainable courage to keep guarding our family and volunteering for his fellow hawkers.
I began writing these articles with a selfish motive to ease my own regret. Yet, in doing so, I accidentally gave a voice to unsung fathers everywhere.
This Father’s Day, I challenge you to practice the ultimate Love Intelligence LQ: flip your lens. Minimize past grievances, drastically magnify the hidden grace your parents provided, and show them you care before the silence becomes permanent.
Today, in 2026, a deeper wisdom has found me. True Love Intelligence (LQ) is the ability to peel back these surface-level judgments and decode the quiet cries for help underneath.
My father wasn't chasing wealth; he was a retiree with no income, chasing the dignity of financial independence because we rarely gave him pocket money. He wasn't being inconsiderate with the television; he was a lonely senior suffering from a biological dopamine deficiency, desperate for a spark of connection in a house where the phone rarely rang.
We spent years magnifying his perceived flaws while completely minimizing his staggering sacrifices.
We took the roof over our heads for granted, forgetting that after our shoe shop was robbed, he spent three long years sleeping on rough wooden planks alongside cockroaches and rats just to secure our livelihood.
He bent his waist remarkably low on the hot concrete of Trengannu Street to serve strangers, silently sweating so his children could stand tall, afford university, and buy their own homes.
Even his afternoon coffee wasn't selfishness; it was the realization of 君子不器—that a man is not a tool to be utterly empty. He knew that by caring for his own boundaries first, he unlocked the sustainable courage to keep guarding our family and volunteering for his fellow hawkers.
I began writing these articles with a selfish motive to ease my own regret. Yet, in doing so, I accidentally gave a voice to unsung fathers everywhere.
This Father’s Day, I challenge you to practice the ultimate Love Intelligence LQ: flip your lens. Minimize past grievances, drastically magnify the hidden grace your parents provided, and show them you care before the silence becomes permanent.
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