Growing as dad over the years

The Star

3 days ago

Azman Zaidy Abu Hassan used to be the quintessential protective father, keeping a close watch over his young sons' every move.
Today, at 55, the Kuala Lumpur-based businessman sees fatherhood differently. With his sons, 21-year-old Eidl Adam and 24-year-old Daniel Hakimi, now grown, Azman has stepped into a new role.
'I've become more of a listener than a talker,' he reflects. 'These days, I relate to them more as a friend than a father.'
This significant shift, he notes, didn't begin when they entered working life.
'It began when they moved from boarding school to college,' Azman recalls. 'That was when I realised I needed to give them space and start treating them as young adults.'
Now, he sees them as young men who have found their footing, charting their own way and quietly becoming someone he can talk and confide in, even lean on.
They even share common interests and passions.
'My eldest son, Daniel, picked up a passion for collecting watches from me, while his brother buries himself in his world of books, just like I did back in the day,' he shares.
Azman Zaidy with Edil Adam during last year's Raya celebration.
Quiet strength
Though Azman Zaidy sees his past role as one of protection, his youngest son, Eidl Adam, remembers a different side of his father's early presence
'He was an authoritative and hard-headed person then,' Eidl Adam muses, 'with communication being more about instructions and guidance.'
Disagreements, he recalls, were always loud and chaotic, and felt like a power struggle.
'It was like one of us had to be right, and the other had to back down. Emotions ran high, and winning was the goal, not communication,' he recalls.
Despite this, Eidl Adam, who recently finished his pre-university studies at Bournemouth University in Britain, and is set to return to the UK this September to pursue a degree in Psychology, now reflects on his childhood with a quiet sense of gratitude.
'He wasn't the type to say 'I love you' all the time.' Eidl Adam shares. 'But I felt it in how he worked hard, how he waited up for me when I was late, and how he never gave up on me.
'Looking back, I always felt safe knowing he was there,' he adds.
Azman Zaidy acknowledges that he shares many traits with his late father, who was a 'less talk, more action' kind of dad. 'But, I am slightly chattier than him,' he says with a smile.
'It was tough,' he recalls. 'I had to travel a lot, so I tried to make any time at home count. I tried to be not just a provider, but also a friend ... someone they could trust.'
Unlike his late father, Abu Hassan Adam, who passed away four years ago at the age of 78, Azman Zaidy says that he tried to have better (and more) communication with his children.
'I remember my (childhood) days ... making a mistake would result in being yelled at or worse, getting your back imprinted with belt stripes,' he recalls.
The boys and their dad while on holiday.
Evolving roles
Fatherhood has taught Azman Zaidy that his children are a gift from Allah that comes with huge responsibilities.
'Being a father is a responsibility I hold sincerely,' says Azman Zaidy. 'I've learned that love takes patience, compromise, and honesty.'
Like most things in the world that change with time, the parent-child relationship evolves too.
'Now that they're older, it's easier,' says Azman. 'They understand my routines and responsibilities, and relate to all the things that I was trying, and still am, to say or share with them.'
Eidl Adam (left) with his elder brother, Daniel Hakimi during their family holiday in Britain.
His sons, he says 'don't just nod their heads'; they have stepped up when it mattered most.
'When my business faced tough times last year, both my sons worked part-time to help with household expenses,' he shares.
'It was the first time I realised I wasn't the sole provider anymore. It was humbling.'
Eidl Adam echoes this sentiment: 'I've taken on more responsibility. I try to ease his burdens. I'm not just a child anymore; I'm part of the support system.'
Being thousands of kilometres from home has made Eidl Adam grow up faster than he expected. This newfound maturity has allowed him to see his father as more than just a provider, protector, guide, and disciplinarian.
'I began to realise that he has his own struggles too,' he reflects.
'Our conversations changed. We began talking more as equals. He started listening instead of just advising. That shift, from being 'the kid' to someone he could confide in, felt really meaningful.'
Azman Zaidy with Edil Adam during last year's Raya celebration. — Photos: AZMAN ZAIDY ABU HASSAN Azman Zaidy with his two sons, Eidl Adam (left.) and Daniel Hakimi when they were young boys
The new bond
Their relationship today is marked by mutual respect and a quiet sense of duty to one another.
'We don't talk about everything,' Eidl Adam says candidly.
'Sometimes there's silence. But I've come to accept that we show love differently. For us, it's in the small gestures: Checking in, remembering details, being present even if we're not always expressive.'
Still, he understands that differences in worldview can make emotional conversations a challenge.
'We've got different values,' Eidl Adam says. 'Some topics feel distant. But I still value his insights ... even when they differ from mine. He's taught me a lot about resilience and duty.'
His father chips in: 'We've matured. We've learned to compromise, to accept that we each have our own way of doing things.'
The shift in roles, while significant, hasn't diminished the respect.
Eidl Adam, currently working as a hotel associate before his return to university, has learned a profound lesson from his father's quiet resilience.
'My dad isn't the type to talk about his struggles,' he observes, 'but now I see that silence can be its own kind of strength. I've learned a lot about endurance from him – about showing up, working hard, and putting the family first, even if it comes at a personal cost.'
This, he says, has made him realise that expressions of love do not need to be loud.
'Some (expressions) are quiet, steady, and rooted in duty,' he adds.
Watching his sons navigate their own paths brings a deep satisfaction to Azman Zaidy.
'The life they've had – moving from boarding school to university and now starting their careers as young adults – I hope it will make things easier for them as they continue their journey,' he says with hope.
Looking ahead, he adds: 'I hope my sons understand all the things I did for them and appreciate me as their father, and that they know that I will always be in their hearts.'
Eidl Adam, on the other hand, still yearns for deeper emotional connection.
'I hope we can learn to be more vulnerable someday, even if it's a little,' he muses.
'We've both gone through a lot, whether together as a family or by ourselves, and sometimes, it would be nice to share that over a cup of coffee and let the both of us be heard.'
Nonetheless, Eidl Adam still sees his once-authoritative father as having softened with age, into a more empathetic and laid-back friend.
'He's (now) the calm in the chaos,' he says with a smile. 'He's a good man (to have) in a storm ... and always will be.'