Tribute to Soldiers and their families!

I was sitting quietly, absorbed in an interview with an actor who had portrayed a remarkable biopic of an army soldier who made the ultimate sacrifice for his country. The soldier had left behind a young daughter and a brave wife, both grappling with a reality that was too heavy to bear. The little girl, with innocent eyes, believed her father lived on through her iPad, while his wife wore her husband’s bravery like a shield, striving to uphold his legacy in every step she took.

As I listened to this poignant story, a wave of emotions washed over me, forcing me to reflect on my own upbringing in a soldier's family. I grew up with a father who had devoted his life to serving the nation, marrying my mother while already enlisted. My brother and I were born during his service, and we often wore the identity of military children with pride, but I had never truly grasped the weight of our family’s sacrifices until that moment.

My mother, an independent woman, was left to navigate the complexities of life far away from her own family—both hers and my father’s. I can’t help but imagine the solitude she must have felt during those long stretches of time when my dad was away, often for 8 to 9 months at a time, year after year. How did she muster the strength to keep our home running? What were her thoughts as she waited for letters from my dad, letters that came sporadically and often with the scent of longing and love? In the 60s and 70s, there were no phones or social media to bridge that gap; there were only heartfelt letters, each one a lifeline filled with hope and reassurance.

I think back to today, to my own son. When he goes out with friends in the evening, my wife reminds him to return home soon, and I watch her often waiting up, eyes on the door, listening for the sound of his laughter as he heads back. It’s a simple act, yet it echoes the worry and love that parents have for their children, a sentiment my mother must have experienced nightly as she awaited news of my father’s safe return.

Then, I ponder the challenges faced by my grandmother, a woman of extraordinary strength. What must she have endured as she sent her only son off to serve in the army, holding onto the hope that he would come back home to her? How did a simple farmer, my grandfather, cope with the reality of his son being away, uncertain of when or if he would return? Those questions linger, haunting me, as I try to understand the depth of their love—a love that manifested in selflessness, sacrifice, and enduring hope.

When my own son was born, I found myself caught in the relentless grind of work and travel. My job took me to Singapore frequently, and although I made a point to return every fortnight, I often wonder how present I truly was in his life. Thankfully, my wife was there to keep everything together, balancing her own responsibilities while being the rock of our family. She managed the home and took care of our family with unwavering dedication, filling in the gaps created by my absence. I know her strength allowed me to focus on my work, but I also realise how much I missed, and how deeply grateful I am for her resilience. Was I there for my son during those formative years, or was I simply a distant figure, more focused on making ends meet than being a present father? How did my dad feel knowing he could only see me once a year while I was growing up? I can only imagine the bittersweet joy of those brief reunions—the warmth of a hug mixed with the ache of separation.

In this whirlwind of thoughts and memories, I grapple with what it all means. What is this phenomenon we call love for family? Is it the drive for success? The need to provide a better life for those we cherish? Is it an innate selflessness or the sacrifice that feels both noble and burdensome? These questions linger in my mind, leaving me feeling unsettled yet filled with profound pride for my parents, who gave everything to ensure we had a brighter future.

As I reflect on their sacrifices, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for my late parents, who navigated life with unyielding resolve, often without the joys of seeing their dreams fulfilled. They did not bask in the fruits of their labour but instead poured their love into building a foundation for us, their children.

Today, my brothers and I stand united in honouring their legacy. We strive to live our lives with the same gratitude and selflessness that they embodied, transforming our admiration for their sacrifices into action. We want to be present fathers, supportive brothers, and responsible sons, continually drawing inspiration from the quiet strength and unwavering love that our parents instilled in us.

In a world that often celebrates individual achievement, we choose to remember the quiet resilience of our parents—a tribute to their enduring spirit. Their sacrifices have not only shaped who we are but also guide us as we navigate our own journeys, instilling in us the values of love, commitment, and selflessness. As we carry their legacy forward, we strive to create a life that reflects their sacrifices and embodies the same love that once bound our family together. In doing so, we find our purpose—not just in living for ourselves, but in honouring the profound love that runs through our veins, a love that is eternal and unbreakable.

Everyone has a story—a story of love, sacrifice, and selflessness. Please share your thoughts..

As I write this, I can’t help but reflect on the significance of November 22, the date marking my father’s 22nd death anniversary. This tribute is not only a remembrance of his life but a celebration of the love and sacrifices that continue to guide us every day.