This Boy, Clark.

I have so many stories and hopes for this charming little boy, Clark. He's seven. And like most boys his age, he has his naughty streaks, loves to play, and gets excited over cartoons and ice cream. But he has the loveliest spirit and the biggest heart. And he loves his family very much.

This is the boy who cries wails each time I fly back to Manila. This is the boy who shares with me and Mom the same love for sardines (between Jollibee/Mcdo and sardines, he'd pick sardines hands down). He is generous with his I love Yous and hugs. He is polite and respectful of other people's things and space. He is smart and funny and sweet.

During my grandpa's wake, we opened the casket to put a rosary for my grandpa to hold. While the casket was open, Clark hugged my grandpa and said: "I am hugging you now because I will never be able to hug you ever again."

I love my grandparents very much and the old has a very special place in my heart. So it touches me that this seven-year-old boy feels so much for my grandparents. I hope he'd grow up respecting and honoring the legacy of those who came before him.

On my grandpa's funeral, I told him: "Don't ever forget Papa, ok?" He replied: "I haven't even forgotten Mama Fe even when she died ahead of him."

I hope he will always have a heart for the old. I hope he will always remember the things we are teaching him, honor our family traditions (I am BIG on family traditions), do our family rituals (no matter how corny they may be).

And I hope that he will grow up to be a better person than his parents (or all of us combined). Most of all, I hope he will live a life of meaning and purpose. I hope he will live it fearlessly and daringly, so that when he is old and grey, he will have lots of stories to tell.