What makes me hopeful

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My father had a great physical presence—when he walked into a room, you noticed. Even towards the end, as he lay in his hospital bed, that feeling remained. He didn’t just fill the room with his presence, though; he filled it with ideas. He was constantly thinking, exploring, and sharing. Remarkably, he was still sharing his thoughts the day before he passed away – which is now one year ago.

I miss him. I miss his voice, his laughter, and the way he lit up a room. Yet his ideas didn’t depart with him. They live on—in the way he shaped my thinking, in the values he passed down, and in the lives of the many people he touched.

I’m reminded of the story of Prophet Abraham, whose presence ended so long ago, but his belief in one Creator—monotheism—endures. His story is told in both the Bible and the Qur’an, the book Muslims turn to for guidance. Abraham’s belief became the foundation of faith for billions of people. For me, Abraham’s legacy shows the enduring powers of faith and ideas. They can impact lives and inspire generations.

I’ve learnt from Information theory that a sent message doesn’t disappear once it leaves the sender—it continues to be heard and interpreted, taking on a life of its own. Once information is shared, it exists independently of its source. A father’s words of advice, like Abraham’s teachings, can persist, transforming and inspiring others in ways the originator might never have imagined.

While I no longer hear my father’s voice in the room, I feel his presence in quieter ways—in the decisions I make, the lessons I pass on, even the words I speak. Sometimes, my mother will hear something I say and tell me, “That sounds just like your father.”

As I reflect on my father’s life, one year on, I appreciate his ideas remain although his physical presence is gone. It makes me realise the work of our hearts and minds doesn’t end with us; it carries on, shaping the world in ways we may never see. And that, more than anything, gives me hope.

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