The Legacy of Ordinary Fathers

On 07.02.2026, I received a WhatsApp message from the Chairman of Golden Joy of BCCM KK (E), asking whether I would be available to share a message at their regular meeting on 18.06.2026, in conjunction with Father’s Day, which will be on 21.06.2026.

Almost instantly, the request stirred memories of my own father, who passed away exactly twenty years ago on 25.01.2006 (Read here). Barely two weeks earlier, on 25.01.2026, it was the 20th anniversary of his passing.

Whenever thoughts of my father come to mind, I am often reminded of one of my favourite Chinese prose essays written by the well-known Chinese writer, Zhu Ziqing (朱自清), in October 1925, titled 背影 or “The Sight of Father’s Back.” I was first introduced to this essay during a Chinese Literature lesson back in 1965, when I was a Form 1 student. Even after so many decades, the story remains deeply moving to me.

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The following is an abstract of the English translation of the prose:

"................We crossed the river and entered the train station. I went to buy the ticket while father busied himself watching over the luggage. There was quite a lot of it, and we had to tip the porters before they would move it along. Father began bargaining with them over the price.

At that time I was far too self-assured. I felt his manner of speaking was rather awkward and could not help interrupting him. In the end, however, he settled the matter and escorted me to the train.

He selected a seat for me near the carriage door. I spread the purple fur coat he had made for me across the seat. He reminded me to be careful on the journey, to stay alert at night, and not to catch a chill. He also asked the waiter to look after me well.

Secretly I smiled at what I thought was his needless fussing. Those people cared only about money - asking them to help was pointless. Besides, I was already grown; surely I could look after myself. Alas, when I think back now, I realize how foolishly confident I was then. I said, “Father, you should go back now.” He glanced outside the carriage and said, “I’ll go buy a few oranges. Just stay here and don’t move about.”

Beyond the railing of the opposite platform stood several vendors waiting for customers. To reach them, one had to cross the railway tracks - climb down from this platform and climb up again on the other side. Father was rather stout, and I knew it would not be easy for him. I offered to go myself, but he would not allow it, so I had no choice but to let him go.

I watched him wearing a small black cloth cap, a black jacket, and a dark blue cotton-padded robe. Slowly and awkwardly he made his way toward the tracks. Climbing down was not too difficult. But when he tried to climb up the platform on the other side, it became much harder. He grasped the edge with both hands, drew his legs up after him, and his heavy body leaned slightly to one side as he strained upward.

At that moment, seeing his back, tears suddenly filled my eyes. I quickly wiped them away, afraid he might notice - and afraid others might see.

When I looked out again, he was already on his way back, holding several bright red oranges in his arms. As he crossed the tracks he first set the oranges down on the ground, climbed down slowly himself, then gathered them up again before continuing.

When he reached my side of the platform, I hurried forward to help him. We returned to the train together. He placed all the oranges onto my fur coat in one heap. Then he patted the dust from his clothes, looking somehow relieved. After a moment he said, “I must go now. Write to me when you arrive.”

I watched him walk away. After taking a few steps he turned back, saw me, and called out, “Go inside now. There’s no one in there.”

I waited until his back disappeared into the crowd of people coming and going, until I could no longer make him out. Then I returned to my seat, and once again my tears began to fall..............."

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Naturally, when we think about fatherhood, we tend to admire great fathers in the Bible - men like Abraham or Jacob. But the truth is this: In real life, it is often the quiet and ordinary fathers who help to shape remarkable children.

They are not famous. They do not leave behind great sayings. They do not stand on stages or receive awards. Many of them hardly say very much at all. But day after day, they faithfully do what fathers are meant to do.

They work hard to provide for the family.
They protect their loved ones.
They make sacrifices quietly.
They love faithfully.
They remain humble.

They do not seek recognition.
They do not expect praise.
They simply do what is right.

And though they may never write books or become well known, the legacy they leave behind is written in the lives of their children.