That was a month ago.

My father died on 22nd January 2026, at the age of 67.

He would have turned 68 on 23rd April.

I got this confirmation when my sister told me about it.

She found this out through our uncle, who in turn got this news from Facebook.

Under normal circumstances, the family of the deceased would arrange the funeral and pay last respects.

I will do no such thing.

Not for my late father.

He deserved none of that from us.

So then, why am I doing this video?

Because I want to get this out of my chest.

This has been decades in the making. And really, I had waited for this day.

This is the first – and last time – I’ll talk about my late father on video.

* * * * * * * * *

My father wasn’t a good man.

He was everything a father and a man should not be.

He was a serial liar, womanizer, cheater, fraud, gambler, and financial parasite.

This one time, my father owed money to the loan sharks for his gambling debts.

They could not find my father, so they looked for my mother at her workplace.

The continued harassment resulted in my mother having to quit her job and find another elsewhere.

So yes, that was the father I knew growing up as a child.

He was hardly at home – not because he was hard at work… but juggling a simultaneous marriage with a 2nd and 3rd wife.

My mother discovered his infidelity in 1996, when I was 10 years old.

We found out that he even had a son with the 3rd wife, who is 8 years my junior.

Despite the discovery, my mother chose to forgive him, citing her newfound religious belief as a Catholic.

She was repaid with his unrepentant, even emboldened behavior; he continued to see and prioritize the other family.

And when he gave us money, after much begging and pleading, it was barely to get by.

My mother isn’t highly educated; she earned a clerk’s pay of just RM 1,500 to 1,700 a month to support me and my sister, who were still schooling.

My father regularly threatened to cut off financial aid for the household if my mother didn’t comply, “gave him a hard time” or stepped out of line.

He had also physically abused us as kids – though as I got older, he stopped doing that (for obvious reasons).

However, he continued to do that on and off with my mother and sister.

That one night on his random fit of rage and drunkenness, I too have had enough.

I was 16 at the time, and I had gotten back from a late hockey practice.

For the first time in my life, I took the fight to my father.

That was what triggered the divorce in November 2002, finalized 2003.

My father made the declaration, signed the papers, even though my mother did not want to.

This explains why I left high school at SMK Damansara Jaya halfway through that year, ended up in London for awhile, and then finished my Form 5 as a “substitute student” in SMK Gelang Patah, Johor Bahru.

* * * * * * * * *

Even after the divorce, he did not give us regular financial aid as stated in the agreement.

In fact, when I was earning my first salary, he borrowed a sum from me.

I didn’t want to give, but relented because my mother said that “he’s still my father” and again, in the name of forgiveness.

And when I made several requests to ask for my money back, he did so – but not without throwing a fit about it.

I did not keep it, I should have, but when this happened: he wrote a barrage of SMS messages to me, threatening to find someone to kill me.

This was in 2004. I was 17 going 18.

I had to tolerate it, because one: I too needed what little money there was.

Two: at the time, I was already about to embark on my Online Business journey – and I needed every cent to take off.

This was a pivotal moment – because clearly, he was not funding my college education, so I had to choose between

Financing my own college semester AND take a chance with starting an Internet Business, that was considered unusual at the time.

It was a secret to him, that I did not reveal what I was doing at the time, plus I too wasn’t even sure how this would pan out.

If anyone wonders my obsession with “make money” and finances…

My prime motivation at the time was so we didn’t have to be threatened or manipulated by my father, ever again.

* * * * * * * * *

Looking back, the divorce was a blessing.

Yes, it was hard for us initially – my mother, my sister and I – but that forced us to learn to be independent, resourceful, and not rely on my father.

I also imagine that had he stayed with us, things would have gotten worse.

So far, I’ve given the “short hand” version of what my late father was like.

Physically, we last met in 2004.

He did try to re-enter our lives 2 years later, in 2006, when he SMS’ed my sister and mother, at a time when my Online Business had already taken off.

My sister knew to ignore him. But my mother, being gullible, wanted to return his call. This time, I forbade her.

Because every time we forgive him, he would become emboldened, unrepentant, and honestly, we would be fools again to do so.

Interestingly, he did not message me.

* * * * * * * * *

When Facebook came along, one of the first things I did was look up my father’s name – I found out he had two accounts – and blocked them. It stayed that way from year 2007 to this day.

When I wrote my first Will in 2008, I made special mention to exclude my father from it. That hasn’t changed.

* * * * * * * * *

So, we carried on with life. And as time passed, I thought of him less and less.

Knowing my father’s character, his habits were self-destructive; it would be his own undoing.

I did not need to lift a finger.

* * * * * * * * *

In late 2024, I discovered my father had sent some messages through my inactive Facebook Page.

Unlike my personal FB, my FB Page of the same name is public. I was unaware of it, until I checked the Inbox’s spam folder at random.

The first message dated back to 2021, followed by several of them in 2024. When I read these messages, it was months later.

My response? I blocked him there too. There was nothing to say.

There is no benefit, advantage or good in forgiving people like that. Even if they are your own flesh and blood.

As a child, I have watched him take advantage of women – even successful ones.

The 2nd wife was a Lawyer. The 3rd wife was a Remisier. He leeched onto their wealth and property.

His money? Mostly ill-gotten gains. He lived a life of borrowing money, “robbing Peter to pay Paul”. So if anyone remembered seeing my father “balling” back in the day, just know those things – money, car, house, etc. – were not exactly his.

Even after his divorce with my mother and done with the other two wives, he quickly moved onto a relationship with another woman in her mid-30s, a bird nest seller.

She was an up and coming career woman; she too was undone by my late father.

How did he have these successful women under a spell? I have no idea. It is a skill I did not inherit from him.

For the most part, he presented himself as a successful businessman with connections. But in reality: he lived like a parasite.

To fully cite all the horrible things he had done would take a longer list and jogging my memory.

It is said that one should not speak ill of the dead.

But when he was alive, he wasn’t a reliable narrator.

So you have only my word to rely on. At least, my accounts can be corroborated with my sister and mother, who are still alive and well. And at least one other person on my Facebook list, if she wishes to step forward about it. She too knew my father.

* * * * * * * * *

Fast Forward To Recent Events:

I received PMs from 3 strangers on that same inactive Facebook Page concerning my father.

One – without any context, showed photos of my father on hospital bed, this time worse for wear.

The other two from anonymous accounts – asking if I know this man.

That was when I decided to just unpublish that Facebook Page.

Because really, I wanted nothing to do with him.

Plus my last impression was that he was dying in 2024.

So honestly, I could not tell if this was “for real this time” or not.

That’s the problem with living a life of lies: people can’t take your word seriously anymore.

Finally, he did actually “kick the bucket” at University Hospital PJ.

I am unsure if it was a coincidence, but my father died where I was born.

So, I received the confirmation news from my sister, at the time I was holding my A.I. Business Intensive class over Zoom.

From what I gathered in the comments section, he had left behind a pile of unpaid hospital bills amounting to RM40K.

That resulted in complications to release his body from the morgue.

I don’t know if this was the reason his contacts or friends were trying to reach out to me.

Was it an urgent invitation to see him off one last time?

Or was it to help foot the bill and finance his funeral?

I don’t want to find out.

Legally, he had been estranged from us since 2004. That was 22 years ago.

Even as a child, my father was not proud of me. He said a lot of mean, discouraging things to me and about me.

Long before I made sense of the world and get the chance to prove my worth.

He did not raise me, nor teach me any life skill.

There are no photos of us together as a family.

From the time we broke away from him, life had been much, much better.

So, no. Even with his passing, I do not want to have anything to do with him.

* * * * * * * * *

From what I know, he was in and out of hospital in the last couple of years. And not long before his demise, underwent a heart bypass surgery.

In his waning days, he must have experienced pain and torment. It was a horrific way of going out.

He died the way I had hoped.

And I am not going to be apologetic for feeling that way. Scums like him had it coming.

I have refrained from naming my father, because no one wants to be known as the son of a conman, or son of a womanizer.

I told some of my close friends about what had just happened.

Them, being the sensible people they are, advised that I should still respect him on the basis that he was my father.

* * * * * * * * *

If you are reading this, I want to ask you:

What do you think of a man or father, who threatens to kill his own son?

What do you think of a man who does the things my father had done?

Or when he took photos of that other woman with her naked crotch exposed, and frame it as a computer desktop wallpaper, for his teenage children to see?

I don’t know what that bird nest seller woman was thinking, to allow herself to be in such a compromised and undignified position. My sister and I saw it, and it was disgusting.

Would you even want to be associated with anyone like that?

For all he had done, it was a miracle he didn’t get arrested, or had any legal action taken against him. Not that I am aware of.

Maybe he had the Devil’s luck.

But then, he did all this at a time before social media.

* * * * * * * * *

So… I am glad he is gone. His story has ended.

After so many years, decades, his death has abated my anger.

I read some comments of condolences about him – that he was a nice, good man who loved art, was well read, knowledgeable, and smart.

I won’t invalidate their experience with him, or those qualities about him.

He might have changed for the better.

Or, that was also him.

We can both be right about the same person.

It’s just that, that was not the version of my late father that I knew.

Now, I’m not entirely heartless; of course I do feel sad.

Sad that he made a lot of wrong choices in his life, many of which that could have been avoided.

How could someone be so smart and intelligent yet be so foolish?

I believe there are some mistakes in life you don’t have to make to learn the lesson.

And one’s death should not automatically absolve them of their past wrongdoings.

* * * * * * * * *

If you have a good or great father, I envy you. Cherish him. Some of us wish we can choose our parents.

And if you are a father or mother, you can take this as a cautionary tale.

I am not a father, but I am the son of an irresponsible one.

You may think you can get away with it today. But one day, your child will come of age and reason. They will recall, revisit and question the actions you take today.

If you don’t care for your children when they are young, don’t be surprised they won’t be there for you when it’s your own time to go.

My father died without getting to see any of us. Not me. Not my sister. Not my mother.

I denied him his last wish. My way of giving no quarter.

I already knew from back then, but he did not know our meeting in 2004 would be our last.

* * * * * * * * *

Yeah, just want to get this out of my chest and move on with the rest of my life.

Okay, show’s over. Carry on.