Adopted at 21: From gangster to caregiver to my father with dementia

My father was twice my height and triple my size. He was British and insisted that I speak like him – focus on clear articulation and emphasise the "t" sound at the end of words. It wasn’t easy because I was 21 by then, couldn’t speak a single word of English, painfully shy and always feeling inferior to my friends. My father was my ticket out of an overcrowded shop house shared by 11 others, giving me luxuries of space, peace, love and a good life.     

Thankfully, I had the opportunity to be a filial son.  

At 51 then, I became my adoptive father’s caregiver. He was battling with colon cancer, and then dementia. During the next two decades, I lost my front teeth, many domestic helpers, my sanity, will to live, and eventually, I lost my father in 2022. But his teachings are etched in my head and heart, shaping the way I live my life today as a retiree. Even though it was a difficult caregiving journey, I am glad to be there for him till the end; I am comforted that he has gone, in peace.    

My father raised me with kindness, so I’m carrying it forward. At 71, I’m a sculptor, community gardener, volunteer, and above all – storyteller advocating for caregivers. This is a far cry from my days as a Chinese-speaking gangster, DJ, and recluse at parties. Today, I am ever ready to share my caregiving story, so that others who are struggling in their journey are alone no more. I hope they too can find the help, hope and friendship that I found through Caregivers Alliance Limited.  

My journey caring for my father was not an easy one. At the lowest point, I had suicide ideation tendencies. But the turning point was when I found help, hope and friendship. I enrolled in caregiver training, learned about dementia, understood why my father behaved that way, eventually his behavioural and psychological symptoms no longer fazed me. I made many friends in CAL, particularly one who gave me time of time whenever I needed, I really appreciate her.  

Another significant turning point was being granted approval to hire male domestic helpers into my household. I’m glad I persisted because my helpers – 4 male domestic workers over the 2 decades – were my caregiving comrades. Over time spent together, I saw them through my father’s compassionate eyes. I also started being an informal “foster father” to my helpers. I encouraged and supported their interests – from cooking to entrepreneurship – and am proud of their achievements today. One of my helpers has a remarkable talent in fashion so I found materials for him and even tried to enrol him in an art school in Singapore. Today, he owns his fashion line. 

I want to pay tribute to my late father and all the fathers out there who gave their children – biological or otherwise – the most important education in life: to always be kind and help where you can.