As told by Ralph’s father.

RALPH: THE BOY WHO KEEPS CHOOSING JOY

Back in Long Lama, my son Ralph was the kind of child who filled our home with laughter from morning to night. He lived with me and his grandmother, while his sister was away studying in a boarding school. Ralph was mischievous, playful, and always ready for a second helping of Grandma’s cooking — especially her fried noodles.

But slowly, things began to change.

I noticed Ralph losing energy before the day even ended. He ate less. He grew thinner and lighter in my arms. And even though Ralph stayed cheerful, something in my heart told me something wasn’t right.

THE JOURNEY TO KUCHING BEGINS

A friend urged me to bring Ralph to the Klinik Kesihatan in Long Lama. I didn’t know it then, but walking through those doors would be the start of a journey that would take us far from home — all the way to Kuching.

That same day, they sent Ralph to Miri Hospital by ambulance. Doctors there said he needed to be transferred urgently again, to Kuching, for further tests.

I hesitated for a moment. Kuching was far. Ralph’s sister still depended on me. And Grandma — she adored Ralph and didn’t even have a smartphone. Leaving suddenly meant he would disappear from her sight overnight. I wanted her to see him one more time before we left.

But when the scan showed a lump near Ralph’s liver, all hesitation disappeared.
I held Ralph’s hand and told him, “We’re going to Kuching, son.”

TWO WEEKS OF SILENCE

In Kuching, the doctor told me the words no parent wants to hear: Ralph had Acute Lymphoblastic Leukaemia — blood cancer.

The first two weeks were the hardest. We were placed in isolation.
Just the two of us in a small room, cut off from everyone. No familiar faces. No warm meals from Grandma. Only treatments… and long, silent nights.

When Ralph was finally moved to the main ward, it felt like breathing again.
Other families welcomed us.
Parents understood our fears without us having to say a word.
Children shared smiles that carried more strength than anything else.

One day, Kendrick’s dad approached me and told me about the Sarawak Children’s Cancer Society (SCCS). I didn’t know such support existed. Through SCCS, Ralph and I received accommodation, monthly financial aid, and — most importantly — a community that made us feel less alone.

For the first time in weeks, I felt our world being held up by more than just medicine. It was held up by people.

THE HARDEST PART: WHEN MY SON LOST HIS SPARK

At the SCCS halfway home, I finally found a place where I could breathe and feel understood. I joined sharing sessions with other parents who were walking the same painful path I was.

Ralph found joy in the activities organised there. He laughed again. He played. He made friends.

But treatment was tough.
Five cycles of chemotherapy, plus Dexa and prednisolone — medicines meant to heal him, but heavy on his small body and mind. His mood dropped. He grew quiet. And as a father, it broke my heart to see my cheerful boy turn inward.

Still… Ralph never stopped trying.
On the 23rd of November, he completed his final round of chemotherapy.

And slowly, I saw his smile returning.

Even on tired days, he checked on other children, shared his toys, and tried to lift their spirits. Every two weeks, he would call home — especially to the person he missed most: Grandma. The calls were short, but they were enough to warm all our hearts.

JOY, LOVE, AND HOPE — THE THINGS THAT CARRY US

What keeps Ralph going is simple:
Family.
Community.
And the belief that tomorrow can still be better.

He isn’t just fighting to survive — he’s trying to live fully, one joyful moment at a time.

To other parents walking this difficult road, my advice is this:
Be strong. You will see things you never expected. Some moments will be painful, but take good care of your child. Make sure they eat well. Give medicine on time. And above all, love them. Always.

Today, Ralph is still playful, still thoughtful, still looking out for others.
He continues to be a joyful child — living proof that hope is powerful, especially when an entire community helps carry it.