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lifestyle
Asyraf's father (left) passed away due to lymphoma when Asyraf was only two. A young Barathan (right) posing for a photo with his dad, who died from a heart attack when Barathan was 16 years old.
PHOTO: Asyraf Chumino, Barathan Jegathesan
PUBLISHED ON June 14, 2025 12:01 PM By Amierul Rashid
Barathan Jegathesan and Asyraf Chumino live different lives but share one painful commonality.
They both lost their fathers at a young age and had to navigate multiple life stages without a father figure to lean on.
While others may mark Father's Day with heartfelt tributes and celebratory social media posts, June 15 serves as a painful reminder (if one was ever needed) that their fathers are no longer with them.
A 16-year-old Barathan lost his father to a heart attack 16 years ago.
For Asyraf, the loss came even earlier. He was just two when his father died after being diagnosed with lymphoma.
Growing up without a father presents unique challenges, particularly in Singapore, where the notion of an 'ideal' family is still widely upheld.
Now in their 30s, both men have come to terms with their grief in their own ways as they spoke openly about how the absence of a dad has shaped their sense of identity and how they defined love and loss.
Both men hold a unique perspective on fatherhood, having lost their fathers early in life. PHOTO: Unsplash
On the morning of April 17, 2009, Barathan's father dropped him off at school, promising a family dinner later that evening.
That dinner never happened.
His father suffered a fatal heart attack that very afternoon.
Barathan recounted being called out of class before rushing to National University Hospital where he would find his father lying unresponsive on a hospital bed, a ventilator tube in his mouth and no pulse.
One could sense the lingering pain was still palpable in every word he spoke.
"It was very sudden," Barathan, 32, recounted.
"I know it's very cliche but my dad was like Superman to me, nothing could happen to this man in my eyes."
The sudden loss of a seemingly invincible figure was impossible for a teenage Barathan to comprehend.
Another painful blow was finding out that the heart attack was attributed to a "sports injury" — a cruel twist given that his father was a fit Air Force personnel who exercised daily.
While Barathan's grief centred around the longing for an individual he knew and adored, Asyraf's grief took a different shape.
He barely remembered his father.
His father's battle with cancer lasted around three to four years and while the family scrambled in search for the best treatment, his father ultimately succumbed to the disease.
Asyraf recalled little of his old man's personality and much of what he knew were pieced together by loved ones.
"My family members told me that he was reserved and quiet. He didn't talk much but he liked to help others, and he worked hard for the family," he shared.
The few personal memories Asyraf holds — beach outings and being carried in his father's arms — are precious, even if blurry.
After his father's passing, Barathan suddenly found himself stepping into the role of "man of the house".
"You're supposed to be carefree, you're a teenager. But I felt like that part of my youth was robbed," he said.
Choices and actions had to be carefully thought through, as he constantly had to wonder if it would affect his mother or sister. And all this was happening while he was wrestling with his own grief.
Barathan admitted that this stress took a toll on his relationship with his mother, who was also coping with her own loss.
"You learn that your mum was actually dependent on your dad, in the emotional sense.
"I will be honest [and admit that] I will never fully understand her pain. Because I lost my father but she lost her life partner. It's different and we all grieve in our own way," he said.
Emotional confusion was present for both individuals, with Barathan admitting to moments of anger while Asyraf reacted to his situation differently.
He explained: "When I was a kid, sometimes I couldn't control my emotions. I wasn't angry but I just wished I had a 'proper' family. When I see other families, I would get envious."
Asyraf described the nuclear family as "normal" — a choice of word that perhaps unintentionally revealed a belief that his lived experience of growing up without a father figure was somehow less than that.
Similar to Barathan, the same issue of having to take it on the chin and learning to grow up on the fly came about.
While his mother took the reigns of raising the family solo, household responsibilities — from house chores to preparing a meal for the family — fell on Asyraf and his siblings.
"I can't be like the regular kids and just play with my friends. I needed to adjust and have that mature thinking where family came first," he said.
Over the years, both men have had to navigate the uncomfortable reminders, be it an empty chair at a meet-the-parent session or even a father-son scene in a film.
For Barathan, it's the movies that get to him most.
Almost sheepishly, he revealed that father-son scenes in movies still hit him differently, bringing him to tears at times.
Though he has since accepted his father's death, the absence and void remain.
Barathan added: "It will always be there. I'm not saying it's a bad thing but it's just something you learn to live with."
A constant through it all has been faith.
Despite it being decades since his father's passing, Asyraf continues to keep his dad in his prayers.
Both Asyraf and Barathan see their loss as a test from a higher power, and through their respective faiths, they've learnt to find a sense of peace.
While religion has helped bring about a sense of hope, the absence still lingers, especially now as they consider fatherhood themselves.
For years, Barathan has ruled out any possibility of becoming a father.
Could you blame him?
His father died at 45, his grandfather too — both of heart-related issues.
"In my head, I was like 'I'm going to pass away at 45 too'," he said.
With the support of his wife processing these emotions, Barathan has worked through those fears.
While he's presently not a father, it is something he's no longer ruling out.
"I just want to make sure that I'm around for my kid for as long as I can," he said.
Asyraf, too, hopes to be a father.
He said: "If the time comes [for me to be a father], I hope my dad will be proud to see that I have a family."
"With all this life experience, I hope that I will give my children the support and care that a child needs."
There's something deeply moving about both men's desire to become fathers, not in spite of their loss but perhaps because of it.
As Barathan poignantly describes it, losing a father is "like a unique jigsaw puzzle gone missing".
"It's not meant to be filled," he added.
The sense of grief may never fully fade but life moves forward and so does love.
For Barathan and Asyraf, Father's Day may still be a tricky situation to navigate.
But maybe one day, it will also serve as a reminder of not just the fathers they lost but of the children they've chosen to show up for.
lifestyle
'I miss you, dad': Sons speak on grief, growth and navigating life without a father
Asyraf's father (left) passed away due to lymphoma when Asyraf was only two. A young Barathan (right) posing for a photo with his dad, who died from a heart attack when Barathan was 16 years old.
PHOTO: Asyraf Chumino, Barathan Jegathesan
PUBLISHED ON June 14, 2025 12:01 PM By Amierul Rashid
Barathan Jegathesan and Asyraf Chumino live different lives but share one painful commonality.
They both lost their fathers at a young age and had to navigate multiple life stages without a father figure to lean on.
While others may mark Father's Day with heartfelt tributes and celebratory social media posts, June 15 serves as a painful reminder (if one was ever needed) that their fathers are no longer with them.
A 16-year-old Barathan lost his father to a heart attack 16 years ago.
For Asyraf, the loss came even earlier. He was just two when his father died after being diagnosed with lymphoma.
Growing up without a father presents unique challenges, particularly in Singapore, where the notion of an 'ideal' family is still widely upheld.
Now in their 30s, both men have come to terms with their grief in their own ways as they spoke openly about how the absence of a dad has shaped their sense of identity and how they defined love and loss.
Gone without a goodbye
On the morning of April 17, 2009, Barathan's father dropped him off at school, promising a family dinner later that evening.
That dinner never happened.
His father suffered a fatal heart attack that very afternoon.
Barathan recounted being called out of class before rushing to National University Hospital where he would find his father lying unresponsive on a hospital bed, a ventilator tube in his mouth and no pulse.
One could sense the lingering pain was still palpable in every word he spoke.
"It was very sudden," Barathan, 32, recounted.
"I know it's very cliche but my dad was like Superman to me, nothing could happen to this man in my eyes."
The sudden loss of a seemingly invincible figure was impossible for a teenage Barathan to comprehend.
Another painful blow was finding out that the heart attack was attributed to a "sports injury" — a cruel twist given that his father was a fit Air Force personnel who exercised daily.
While Barathan's grief centred around the longing for an individual he knew and adored, Asyraf's grief took a different shape.
He barely remembered his father.
His father's battle with cancer lasted around three to four years and while the family scrambled in search for the best treatment, his father ultimately succumbed to the disease.
Asyraf recalled little of his old man's personality and much of what he knew were pieced together by loved ones.
"My family members told me that he was reserved and quiet. He didn't talk much but he liked to help others, and he worked hard for the family," he shared.
The few personal memories Asyraf holds — beach outings and being carried in his father's arms — are precious, even if blurry.
Growing up too soon
Despite their different experiences with their father's death, both men brought up the same feeling of having to "grow up faster" than their peers.After his father's passing, Barathan suddenly found himself stepping into the role of "man of the house".
"You're supposed to be carefree, you're a teenager. But I felt like that part of my youth was robbed," he said.
Choices and actions had to be carefully thought through, as he constantly had to wonder if it would affect his mother or sister. And all this was happening while he was wrestling with his own grief.
Barathan admitted that this stress took a toll on his relationship with his mother, who was also coping with her own loss.
"You learn that your mum was actually dependent on your dad, in the emotional sense.
"I will be honest [and admit that] I will never fully understand her pain. Because I lost my father but she lost her life partner. It's different and we all grieve in our own way," he said.
Emotional confusion was present for both individuals, with Barathan admitting to moments of anger while Asyraf reacted to his situation differently.
He explained: "When I was a kid, sometimes I couldn't control my emotions. I wasn't angry but I just wished I had a 'proper' family. When I see other families, I would get envious."
Asyraf described the nuclear family as "normal" — a choice of word that perhaps unintentionally revealed a belief that his lived experience of growing up without a father figure was somehow less than that.
Similar to Barathan, the same issue of having to take it on the chin and learning to grow up on the fly came about.
While his mother took the reigns of raising the family solo, household responsibilities — from house chores to preparing a meal for the family — fell on Asyraf and his siblings.
"I can't be like the regular kids and just play with my friends. I needed to adjust and have that mature thinking where family came first," he said.
Over the years, both men have had to navigate the uncomfortable reminders, be it an empty chair at a meet-the-parent session or even a father-son scene in a film.
For Barathan, it's the movies that get to him most.
Almost sheepishly, he revealed that father-son scenes in movies still hit him differently, bringing him to tears at times.
Though he has since accepted his father's death, the absence and void remain.
Barathan added: "It will always be there. I'm not saying it's a bad thing but it's just something you learn to live with."
From losing a dad to becoming one
Both men are on their own individual journeys in processing grief, a path that can be confusing and overwhelming in the best of times.A constant through it all has been faith.
Despite it being decades since his father's passing, Asyraf continues to keep his dad in his prayers.
Both Asyraf and Barathan see their loss as a test from a higher power, and through their respective faiths, they've learnt to find a sense of peace.
While religion has helped bring about a sense of hope, the absence still lingers, especially now as they consider fatherhood themselves.
For years, Barathan has ruled out any possibility of becoming a father.
Could you blame him?
His father died at 45, his grandfather too — both of heart-related issues.
"In my head, I was like 'I'm going to pass away at 45 too'," he said.
With the support of his wife processing these emotions, Barathan has worked through those fears.
While he's presently not a father, it is something he's no longer ruling out.
"I just want to make sure that I'm around for my kid for as long as I can," he said.
Asyraf, too, hopes to be a father.
He said: "If the time comes [for me to be a father], I hope my dad will be proud to see that I have a family."
"With all this life experience, I hope that I will give my children the support and care that a child needs."
There's something deeply moving about both men's desire to become fathers, not in spite of their loss but perhaps because of it.
As Barathan poignantly describes it, losing a father is "like a unique jigsaw puzzle gone missing".
"It's not meant to be filled," he added.
The sense of grief may never fully fade but life moves forward and so does love.
For Barathan and Asyraf, Father's Day may still be a tricky situation to navigate.
But maybe one day, it will also serve as a reminder of not just the fathers they lost but of the children they've chosen to show up for.
