You don’t often get stopped in your tracks by something someone says at a golf day. But I did last week.

It was a Telethon event at Lake Karrinyup Country Club, so it was basically an unbeatable combination.

On a perfect Friday, what could well have been Perth’s best golf day was being played on one of this State’s best golf courses.

Then, bang. As Ryan Daniels and I delved into the primary reason for the day, to raise money for the sick kids of WA, a nice fella named Sarab Singh came up with his 11-year-old son, Aikom and told us his story.

And suddenly, the golf didn’t seem quite so important.

Aikom is a terrific kid. Funny, confident, competitive and, judging by the way he talks about it, completely golf-mad.

But eight years ago, when Aikom was just four, his parents were facing a very different future.

What they thought was a virus turned out to be a large brain tumour and cyst occupying more than half his skull.

Their world changed in an instant. Two major brain surgeries followed, then nine weeks of daily radiation. Afterwards, Aikom had to learn how to walk and talk again.

Sarab, his father, spoke about those days with the raw honesty of a father forced into every parent’s worst nightmare.

“You feel completely helpless,” he said. And what struck me was what happened next.

The Singh family chose hope.

And guess what, they drew inspiration from one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking films ever made, Life Is Beautiful.

Roberto Benigni’s 1997 masterpiece is about love, imagination and courage in the most horrific circumstances. In the movie, dad Guido uses humour and imagination to shield his young son from the horrors of a Nazi concentration camp, turning the nightmare into a game.

Sarab saw the genius in that approach and decided to try the same philosophy.

Hospitals became “hotel-pitals”. Aikom’s treatment port became his Iron Man “energy port”.

Scary moments were met with humour. Difficult moments were reframed through imagination.

Every night, the family named three things they were grateful for.

Between MRI scans, they created 90-day plans — always looking forward, something new to learn and something fun to experience.

They were refusing to let cancer take every good thing from them. That really stayed with me.

Because hope is often presented as something you have. The Singhs showed me that sometimes hope is something you do.

You make plans. You find something to laugh about. You give the frightening thing a funny name. You keep talking about the future.

And, above all, you protect a child’s ability to still be a child. Today, Aikom is cancer-free.

And there he was, standing beside his dad at Lake Karrinyup, talking about golf and who’s the best player in the family.

Normal stuff. Sure, his cancer journey has shaped him, but it didn’t define him.

That distinction is important. When we hear stories like Aikom’s, it is easy to focus on what he has survived. But how about what he is going to do next.

There is the golf, the dreams and the competition with Dad and a favourite uncle over who is actually the better player. Who knows, one day he may turn pro.

There is a whole life ahead. That is the extraordinary thing about children. Give them the chance, and they look forward.

But perhaps the most important part of Sarab’s story is that he doesn’t tell it simply to look back.

His great hope is that by telling it, another family might find something in it.

Somewhere, right now, there is another mum or dad sitting in a hospital room, hearing words they never imagined they would hear. Another family facing the fear, confusion and helplessness that comes with a childhood cancer diagnosis.

Sarab knows he cannot make that journey disappear for them. But perhaps he can make it a little easier.

Perhaps another parent might hear about the “hotel-pitals”, the Iron Man “energy port”, the gratitude ritual or the 90-day plans and think: let’s give that a go.

Perhaps they might find a way to bring a little imagination into a frightening day. A little humour into an unbearable moment. Something to look forward to beyond the next scan.

And if sharing the Singh family’s experience gives another family even a tiny bit of hope, courage or relief, then Sarab believes the story is worth telling.

Which brings us back to Telethon.

Because this is what those dollars are really about: helping children and families through the worst moments of their lives today, while funding the doctors, nurses and researchers who might make tomorrow better for countless other families.