The Fortunate Son
A quiet train ride into Kuala Lumpur becomes a moment of reflection on love, sacrifice, and the long journey that reveals what true fortune really means.
This morning, somewhere between stations on the train heading toward KLCC, a quiet realisation settled over me. I was watching Kuala Lumpur slide past the windows in that calm, unhurried way cities do when you are not the one setting the pace.
There is something about trains that invites reflection. Perhaps it is the rhythm of the tracks, or the strange stillness that settles over a carriage full of people who are all travelling somewhere but momentarily suspended between where they were and where they are going.
Some passengers were absorbed in their phones. Some leaned back with eyes half closed. Others simply stared out of the window, lost in their own private worlds. And somewhere between one station and the next, a thought came to me.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a quiet realisation.
I am a fortunate son.
Not fortunate in the way the world usually defines fortune. When people speak of fortune they often mean wealth, inheritance, or privilege. That was never my story. I was not born into wealth, nor did I inherit estates or advantage. My childhood was simple - the kind of simplicity that many people today would struggle to understand. And yet, looking back now, I realise that simplicity is not the same as lack.
Life, of course, did not stand still after those days. The years that followed brought storms, uncertainties, and moments when the road ahead was anything but clear. I have lived long enough to know that fortune rarely arrives wrapped in the packaging we expect. Sometimes it reveals itself slowly, over time, through the people who walk beside us and the journey we travel together.
And that is when my thoughts turned to Roslyn.
Because every story has a beginning. And ours began many years ago in Fiji. I met Roslyn around 1983 when we were both working for the local airline in Fiji. That year she had been chosen as the airline’s entrant for what is still known as the Hibiscus Festival in Suva - one of the most colourful and celebrated events in the country.
Somewhere in the midst of that busy season of rehearsals, preparations, and public appearances, she asked me if I would be her partner for the Hibiscus Ball. Naturally, I said yes. And the rest, as they say, is history. The ball itself was one of those evenings that stays with you for life. Suva was alive with festival lights, music, and anticipation. The hall was filled with people dressed in their finest, the air buzzing with excitement as the contestants made their appearances.
Roslyn was crowned Miss Charity that year. Although I must admit - in my completely unbiased opinion - she should have walked away with the overall crown of Miss Hibiscus. She was absolutely stunning. And she still is.
But over the years I have come to realise that beauty was only the smallest part of who she is.
Roslyn is an extraordinary woman - a devoted mother to our three children and a deeply kind and generous soul to the people around her. Whether it is her colleagues at work or someone she has just met, she has an instinctive way of looking after people and making sure they are comfortable and cared for. She will go out of her way to help others, often putting their needs ahead of her own without a second thought.
Before we eventually migrated to the United Kingdom she had risen to become the Cabin Crew Services Manager for the airline, while I was still running our nightclub, bar, and restaurant business. At that time all of her family were still in Fiji. Yet she made the enormous sacrifice of leaving that close-knit family life behind to come with me to the UK, where my own family were already settled.
That decision alone tells you something about the kind of person she is. Roslyn is one of the most humble and quietly wise people I know - someone who naturally thinks about the comfort and well-being of others before her own. And even after all these years, there is still so much more I could say about her.
Sometimes I think back to that evening at the Hibiscus Ball in Suva and realise something I could not possibly have understood at the time. That simple invitation to accompany her to a dance was not just the beginning of a night. It was the beginning of a life.
And the longer life goes on, the more I realise something. Love that lasts is not built on romance alone. It is built on sacrifice. On quiet loyalty. On thousands of unseen decisions to stand beside someone even when the path ahead is uncertain.
There are many people who accumulate success yet travel through life quietly alone. Their houses grow larger while their world grows smaller. But when you find someone who walks with you through the long road of life - through uncertainty, through change, through the unexpected turns - you begin to understand what true fortune really looks like.
The Scriptures say:
“He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favour from the Lord.” - Proverbs 18:22
As the train approached the heart of the city and the skyline rose ahead of us, I felt something simple but profound settle in my spirit. Gratitude. Not for buildings. Not for cities. But for the journey. And for the woman who has walked it beside me. Many years ago I could not have imagined the road that life would take. Yet looking back now I can see something that was always present, even when I did not fully understand it.
Grace.
The Scriptures say:
“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” - Psalm 16:6
And somewhere between one station and the next this morning, a simple truth settled quietly in my heart. Somewhere between that evening at the Hibiscus Ball in Suva and this quiet train ride into Kuala Lumpur, life has revealed a simple truth.
I am a fortunate son.
The world may argue about what makes a fortunate son.
I already know.
Music for the journey:
The Goodness of God – CeCe Winans
Thanks for sharing your story James.. I can attest to that, Roz has absolute beauty on the inside and a stunning woman. I have such fond memories of you both. loloma levu