> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.story.sg/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # The Tiffin Carrier - URL: https://www.story.sg/the-tiffin-carrier/ - Published: 2026-11-13T02:33:38.000Z - Updated: 2026-11-13T02:33:38.000Z - Author: sam choo I had just given birth to my first child, and the last thing I wanted was visitors. I was in pain, emotionally overwhelmed, and simply wanted to be left alone. But my father came to the hospital every day. It was 2006, and I was recovering from childbirth at Mount Alvernia Hospital in Singapore. My father was about 60 years old. He had mobility difficulties, but that did not stop him from riding his old motorcycle to visit me. Every day, he carried a tiffin carrier filled with home-cooked food lovingly prepared by my mother. Getting to my hospital room was not easy for him. My father had only a primary school Chinese education and could not read most English signs. After finding somewhere to park his motorcycle, he had to ask the nurses for directions, using whatever Chinese and English phrases he knew. And he had to do all this despite his difficulty walking. He made the journey because he wanted to make sure I was eating proper food and to spend a little time with his first grandchild. The hospital food was actually quite nice. But as a new mother struggling with pain and emotions, I found something especially comforting about eating my mother's cooking. Those familiar meals brought me a sense of stability when everything around me felt overwhelming. My father also brought something else. It was an old towel that my two siblings and I had used when we were babies. He had kept it all those years, and now he was bringing it for my child. I find that memory especially touching. A towel that had once been used for his own children was now being passed to his first grandchild. Looking back, I think about the effort my father made during those hospital visits. He was already getting older. Walking was difficult for him. He struggled with English and had to find his way through an unfamiliar hospital. Yet every day, he got onto his motorcycle, carried the food my mother had prepared, and made his way to my room. He wanted to make sure his daughter was eating well. At the time, I appreciated the food. Today, I appreciate the journey. --- *Told by *Ariel Loh** *Written by Sam Choo* Story tags: Fatherhood, Family Love, Childhood Memories.