TLDR: Fathers in our lives may be stern and commanding, but they provide sustenance, practical advice, and express their love in different forms. Father figures during Buddha’s time highlight fatherly love, sacrifice, and invaluable teachings such as unconditional love and gratitude. 

A warm and caring figure comes to mind when we think of our mother. On the other hand, when we think of our father, fear strikes our hearts. 

Why can’t we have a warm, sacrificing father like Ne Zha’s father, we may wonder? Perhaps our fathers’ sacrifices come in different ways, and they are often too little, too late, before we realise. 

Letting Go Is Hard

When I was sent abroad to study in the United States of America (USA), (I was studying and living there for 12 years), and with long intervals of about 2-3 years before I returned to Malaysia for visits, I thought my father had abandoned me. 

Though later on, I realised that, due to financial challenges of sending me abroad at the height of the 1997-1998 Financial Crisis, and also my father’s battle with cancer (he’s now a 4-time cancer survivor), the regular trip home is hard to materialise. 

Furthermore, my father was worried about me being affected academically (he doesn’t want me to worry about his health) and financially (cancer treatment costs a lot!), so it was next to impossible for me to visit home frequently. Mind you, this was the world before WhatsApp video calls existed, hence, letter writing (snail mail) and using International phone cards to make voice calls was used. 

When working and living in Singapore, going on regular meditation retreats, and pursuing my five years of Buddhist Studies, from Diploma to Master’s, I never quite understood my father’s concerns about how I should prioritise my career before learning Buddhism. I thought that my pursuit of Buddhism would help not only myself but my parents too, if I could better educate and share the Dhamma with them. 

This is where I recollect and remember the story of King Suddhodana’s concern for his son, the Buddha, and then his grandson, Rahula. 

When I came across the story of Prince Rahula being ordained by the Buddha and how King Suddhodana, requested parental consent before someone was ordained, I realised that letting go of one’s child is a much harder act for a parent than their child would understand. 

“Sometimes letting go is harder than breaking up.” While the lyrics come from a romantic song,  it poignantly reminds me of my father’s great sacrifice. He sent his son away to study abroad for a better future with no certainty that the distance will not disrupt the already tenuous bond between them. 

Sacrifice My Own Needs, for My Child’s Need is Greater

Biologically and psychologically, one can argue that it is for preserving one’s offspring’s genetics and contributions over time. For a very long time, I never quite understood the seemingly irrational ideals of someone sacrificing their own needs for the needs of another, until it happened to me. 

As a childless single, I often surprise my friends when I mention “my kids” In our conversations. 

I refer to my students under my care, my counselling students, as my kids. It’s an internal code word for some of us in the counselling field of a particular biological age, where we would and could have been fathers and mothers, to activate our parental instincts. 

As one of the volunteer teachers for the Buddhist Fellowship (BF), Junior Youth (JY), a group of 13-16-year-old students for BF regular Saturday afternoon classes, it is one of my privileges to bring snacks and drinks for the students for their tea break. It is always interesting for teachers to observe and identify which snacks are in vogue amongst our “kids”.

Getting the right snacks that get consumed earns us bigger joy than hitting the metaphorical jackpot, it seems! 

In the story of King Bibimsara and Prince Ajatasattu, despite Prince Ajatasattu’s traitorous intent in taking over his father’s Kingdom and torturing King Bibimsara, we read that the king only has goodwill towards his son. Prince Ajatasattu realised the love of a father only when he became a father, albeit a bit too late as King Bibimsara had passed on. 

While I have glimpses of what a father’s sacrifice could be like, thinking and worrying about those under my care, I also realised that I would never fully understand a father’s sacrifice, unlike my best friend Marcus, who became a new father last year. Bro, I guess I can forgive you for becoming more absent in my life, as your child needs more attention than I do. 

As friends of our peers, friends, and colleagues who are young parents, may we extend our love and compassion to them for the great sacrifice they make. I would add that we should not forget to extend the same to ourselves, when we have to part with our close friend’s company. As a helping professional, I often remind my clients that one’s suffering is not a comparison game, that one’s suffering is no less than the other’s. 

Resilience : Top Life Lesson from my Father

When I shared my topsy-turvy life journey, moving from Malaysia to the USA to Singapore, many wondered how I grew from a shy, introverted child, the metaphorical soft and easily bruised strawberry, to the charismatic, extroverted man, or what I considered to be the hardy and thorny durian fruit I am today. 

I like the metaphor of the durian fruit because while I may seem hardy and tough on the outside, I am still very sensitive deep down; also friendly and wonderful to get to know, though I find it increasingly hard to let people into my life. 

My father is a Polio victim survivor. For those who don’t know, those BCG jabs that you received for vaccination actually help to spare you from the crippling nerve disease that caused my father to grow up with a shrunken left leg that causes him to walk with a limp. 

Despite my father’s physical limitations, my grandfather (toxic masculinity ideals or the practical realities of the harsh life facing men of those days?) makes my father a socially athletic handyman around the house. My father’s nickname is Coach, for he self-taught himself how to swim from reading books, and he had coached many to swim (except his three sons)… 

Additionally, as a 4-times cancer survivor still living as healthy as possible given him closing on to 80 years old, my father was the symbol of resilience and inner strength that I had learnt to embody over the years of facing my demons and hardships in life. 

In the Sigālovāda Sutta, the young man, Sigālaka, was guided by the Buddha on the teachings Sigālaka’s father was trying to convey. Themes of respecting one’s parents and teachers, avoiding vices such as gambling, and making good friends are qualities that are not only taught by my father but are lived by him. 

Visiting and spending time with the elders during Chinese New Year makes sense now, as strong social connections are a predictor of a good life for our elderly relatives and friends. Social connections are essential for both the young and the old. 

In closing, I would like to dedicate my appreciation and gratitude to my father, Mr. Lim Siow Choo: 

Father, thank you for teaching me the lessons of life not only through your exemplary guidance when I was young but more so through your lived experience of living the good life. 

I am a better person today because of you. You taught me to look for a hero within myself, to be the best man I can be, because you showered me with the “Greatest Love of All.” While I continue to wish you would say ”I Will Always Love You” to me, I know deep down that your action (of love) speaks louder than words. 

May you, readers, find the greatest love of all in your father and mother. 

Sukhi hontu – May you be well and happy. 

Wise Steps: 

• For Father’s Day in June, thank your Father or Father figures in your life. Next, try to keep it going for the rest of the months till the next Father’s Day, where possible. 

• We can practice gratitude to our parents by sharing the Buddhist teachings with them. 

• Dhamma books and YouTube teachings are good ways for our parents to learn the Dhamma when we are not at home.