<p>A Father’s Day Tribute to the One I Lost and the One Who Stepped In.</p><p>I didn’t plan to share this story which i do at the end and probably it was meant to be with how desperate my search of GOD was and wanting to be SAFE. </p><p><br /></p><p>But some truths ask to be spoken not because they’re dramatic, but because they’re real. Years ago, I watched my father take his last breath. We couldn’t even finish screaming the word “doctor.” Just like that… he was gone. And in that raw moment of loss, I turned to my brother, hugged him tight, and whispered, “ I need you to be my father hereon and to step into his space. I need to feel safe. ” </p><p><br /></p><p>That was the day I understood something sacred: </p><p>That fatherhood isn’t only about the man who raised you… It’s also about the presence that holds you when you’re most unheld.Fast forward to my 50th birthday - a milestone I had long dreamed of.I had countdowns, visions, and childlike excitement. I wanted to mark it with purpose and presence. But just before that big day, a coaching session cracked something wide open.It ended with this: “You are nobody.”</p><p>I’ve heard that in spiritual circles before. I’ve said “I am not the body” in Satsangs. But that day, those words didn’t feel peaceful. They felt hollow.Because deep down, a part of me still wanted to be somebody. To be good. To be loved. To be enough.</p><p><br /></p><p>In Singapore, my family, all of them lovingly gifted me an iPad. While choosing it at Marina Bay Sands, I was invited into a short class at apple. And like the youngest sibling I am, I agreed... still used to going along with what’s expected. But in that moment, surrounded by tech and strangers and birthday messages, I was suddenly back in a classroom I couldn’t understand. Back to the little girl who felt slow, confused, less-than. It triggered a migraine. But it also unlocked a memory. </p><p><br /></p><p>A part of my story that needed light. Afterwards, moments alone after the big celebration... I sat in silence and tears on my pillow realised, “This is what happens. The now wakes up the then.”That stayed with me. Like a quiet truth wrapped in compassion. </p><p>Since then, I’ve stopped asking “Why me?”</p><p>And started saying “Show me.”</p><p><br /></p><p>This episode of Release with Soulnal - recorded in April was always meant to come out now.</p><p>In June. For Father’s Day. Because this is more than a podcast. It’s a tribute. To the man who raised me. To the brother who held me. To the soul I’ve become through both grief and grace. I’ve learned that surrender doesn’t make you smaller.</p><p>It opens the door to something greater - presence.</p><p>When I finally let go of needing to be somebody, I remembered who I truly am. In Paris, I stood before the MonaLisa painting in awe and danced in the streets. Not as a wife. Not as a mother. Not as a coach. But just as me. </p><p>Curious. Present. Free. And maybe that’s what healing really is. Not becoming someone new. But remembering the someone you’ve always been. </p><p>From “Why me?” to “Show me,”</p><p><br /></p><p>This episode is my release — a remembrance that we’re not here to be somebody in the world’s eyes, but to remember who we are in the soul’s light.</p><p><br /></p><p>Ps. I misspoke "Muslims are not allowed in the mosque" instead of non muslim . My bad.</p><p>Also correction... it was a 2nd degree burn leaning towards 3rd degree.</p><p><br /></p><p>Also promised to share the talk I was invited to regarding LIGHT LANGUAGE :</p><p> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtP7Kjhcib0&amp;list=PLdLLd4ptki5VpGujvEcy6HTDeQZH8d_ld&amp;index=7&amp;t=20s</p>