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Coming home to my roots and family

I still remember the evening my CEO sat down beside me at our newly opened serviced apartment in Fort Bonifacio Philippines, shared about his plans to deepen the company’s presence in Europe and for me to relocate to London.

The author took this photo in Scotland of a dandelion after its flower has withered,  a fairly common sight in UK countryside. The white, fluffy, round balls of seeds are easily blown away by the wind, but once they fall onto the ground, they grow roots firmly and germinate into a new plant - reminding him of his work experience overseas and his reasons to return to Singapore and stay here.  Photo: Alan Lai

The author took this photo in Scotland of a dandelion after its flower has withered, a fairly common sight in UK countryside. The white, fluffy, round balls of seeds are easily blown away by the wind, but once they fall onto the ground, they grow roots firmly and germinate into a new plant - reminding him of his work experience overseas and his reasons to return to Singapore and stay here. Photo: Alan Lai

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I still remember the evening my CEO sat down beside me at our newly opened serviced apartment in Fort Bonifacio Philippines, shared about his plans to deepen the company’s presence in Europe and for me to relocate to London.

I said yes, not so much because I was excited about living there, but more as a matter of debt and duty to the company, which for years had provided me opportunities for personal and professional growth.

So after having spent some years in Shanghai and Guangzhou, the next thing I knew, I was in the thick of the action in Europe, shuttling almost weekly between Paris and London, building up a local investment team, identifying and negotiating acquisition opportunities for the company. London is an amazing city, I can understand why so many fall in love with it. Work was fulfilling and I had great bunch of friends and colleagues.

But life is unpredictable. Whilst working late on one cold winter’s night, I got an unexpected call from home.

Mum was suddenly diagnosed with a rare cancer, and no one could tell how much time she had left. This news shocked me to my core.

Mum rarely complained. For years, she has occupied herself with her small retail business and always made sure to put our family’s needs ahead of her own. Leaning against the heater that night, it dawned upon me how fragile life was. I was not quite sure what to do next, I prayed that she would recover so that life could go back to normal, but of course, life does not work that way.

As the months passed, the acquisition I was working on finally came to fruition. Throughout the entire process, I had been flying back to Singapore several times to support Mum and to better understand her condition and the options she had. My bosses and colleagues were extremely understanding and accommodating throughout the whole ordeal and I still feel I owe them a debt of gratitude today. The first thing I did after the successful acquisition was to thank my team mates for their hard work and friendship.

Only then did I feel ready to call my family, and for the first time my brother told me, “I need your help, I think it is time you come home”. I hesitated, but I knew what I had to do. With the acquisition done and having set up a local team, the timing was right for me to go. I resigned and returned to Singapore last year without a job.

Mum has always been frugal and she rather save her little earnings than to buy insurance. When I knew about it shortly after I joined the workforce, the insurance premium for her age had increased significantly and some of her existing medical conditions would not be covered.

Without an insurance, her medical treatment could easily run into five-figure sums every month. The medical social worker explained that we would not be able to apply government subsidies for some of the costly drugs unless our household income was below a certain level.

In a strange twist of logic, it also meant that it would make more sense for me to quit my job in order to qualify for the subsidies.

More importantly, I could spend more time with her. As the eldest in her large family from a poor fishing village, she is independent, has a strong character and hardly asks for help from anyone.

But this time, I knew that deep in her heart, she needed me back, not only because she wanted close family members beside her hospital bed to help make decisions in case of the worst eventuality, but also because I know our physical presence can provide her necessary emotional support to stay positive during the treatment journey.

A few weeks just before officially leaving London, a motorcyclist sped past me near Angel tube station and yanked my mobile phone from my hands, robbing me of almost all the memories and photos I had in London.

In the same week, at a dinner organised for my farewell, I found out that my counterpart’s solicitor, whom I thought was transferred to another deal in the course of our negotiations, was not transferred out but had died from brain aneurysm. She was at work and her death was instant, no farewell, no last words.

Life is short and no matter how much we accumulate, we cannot bring anything along when it ends. It is easy to lose sight of important relationships when we are pursuing our career aspirations.

I think these events were just God’s gentle reminders for us to detach from the material things in life, and to focus on what really matters.

We are given wings to fly far and experience the world, but instead of waiting for tragic turns of event as life reminders, we should consciously remember our roots to return home and the reasons for us to stay.

My family is blessed that after trying out several options, a newly developed drug appeared to be positive so far in keeping Mum’s condition stable.

We are also grateful that MediShield Life, the new national healthcare insurance, now covers a significant portion of the costly drugs that Mum needs.

The series of events has also given me courage to venture into uncharted waters, I left my comfort zone to join a FinTech firm. The job requires frequent travel but I make sure that most of the weekends I am back in Singapore.

We will never know how much more time Mum has, but I am thankful to be able to celebrate Mothers’ day with her. I always thought it is filial to bring Mum to an expensive restaurant, but I gradually learnt that what makes her happy is just a simple meal of Teochew porridge, a meal considered luxurious back in 1960s when my maternal grandparents were struggling to make ends meet.

I also realised that whenever we meet for meals, I am always rushing, and often talking more than listening.

Perhaps this Sunday, instead of bringing her to a fancy restaurant, it might be worthwhile finding a simple Teochew eatery where I can spend the time listening to her childhood stories, her dreams and aspirations that she never had a chance to share.

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Alan Lai spent eight years in the public sector and eight years in the private sector. He is currently in a FinTech firm focusing on the Medical and Finance ecosystems. He is a National Youth Council INSPIRIT member, a Youth Career Network Mentor and a World Cities Summit 2017 Young Leader.

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