Some photos show you the gap.

I went looking for my father and found my kids.

By Farhan Terubos · 31 October 2026 · 4 min read · Issue #9

One night this month, I was looking for old photos of my father.

My siblings and I made a song for Abah’s 67th birthday. It needed photos to go with it, so I started searching.

While I looked, I was also reading my siblings’ answers. I had asked each of them a few questions about him. Some sent text. Some sent voice notes.

Same father. Different answers.

Each of us has our own life with him. Our own moments.

I won’t share what they wrote. Those are their stories, not mine to tell.

But reading them, one thing became clear to me.

There have been so many moments between us and our parents. Happy ones and sad ones. From when we were small until today.

That was the first thing I found that night.

Then came the second.

While I was looking for photos of me with my father, photos of my own children came up too.

And there, I noticed something.

I have not given them enough time.

Let me be clear about what I mean.

It’s not that I want them to remember me. It’s not about them having lots of memories with their father. That’s part of it, yes. But it isn’t the main thing.

The main thing is this. Being busy with work, and with everything else in life, has slowly been taking my quality time with them. Time that should have been spent together. With my children. With my wife. With my family.

And not only them. With my own mak and abah too.

It didn’t happen in one day. It happened a little at a time, so I didn’t see it.

That night, in those photos, I saw it.

Looking for my father, I found my children.

My siblings’ answers showed me how much we have had with our father. My children’s photos showed me the gap.

I think it’s a cycle.

Our fathers worked for a salary. For someone else’s company.

Now we do the same. We need the income to pay for ourselves and our families.

So most of the day, from morning until evening, is spent at work. What’s left is the time before it, and the time after it.

That’s when we see our children. Our wives. Our parents. Our brothers and sisters.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t work. Work is how the rezeki comes in. Stop working, and that door closes.

But this can be a turning point. It’s a reminder for me first. Then for you.

The question is what we do with the time that’s left.

Talk about one day, or two, and it looks short. A little each day doesn’t look like much.

But a day becomes a week. A week becomes a month. Then a year. Two years. Five. Ten.

Over ten years, that little bit each day adds up to a lot of time.

The real question is who it goes to.

When I’m honest, too much of mine has gone to work, and to things that matter less than the people closest to me.

The time left after work is the time your family gets. Use it on purpose.

Selagi mereka masih ada di sisi kita, kita tak terasa.

While they’re still beside us, we don’t feel it.

When they’re far from us, or gone, we feel the time we lost.

I hope I remember what I saw in those photos.

For as long as I live.

One thing that worked

The problem: Your head is full at the end of the day, and you carry it all home.

What I did:

1. I kept a microphone in my face mask and talked on the motorcycle ride to work and back.

2. I set my phone’s dictation to Bahasa Melayu. When I switched to English for tech words, it still caught them.

3. Everything went into one Google Doc tab called Dump: unsolved problems, ideas, anything I was carrying that day.

How I know it worked: My head clears. Saying things out loud unloads them, so I think more clearly and don’t carry my moods around all day.

Try it on your ride home. Hands-free only: set it up before you ride, and never touch the phone on the road.

That’s all for this week.
See you next Saturday.

Cheers,
Farhan Terubos