The name Zak resounded in me with childhood memories. I thought his doting parents derived it from what I think it is, from the name Zach Taylor of the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. The Black Ranger he is. But I was wrong. They have it in their minds while this little man’s brooding inside her mother’s womb.
I traveled with his Mommy when he was just a tiny bean, throbbing at 2 months on a bus way home. She was anxious because no one knew about this tiny bean yet. She was way ahead of her thinking then on what to expect of her family especially her dad. Eventually, Zak was born and the family was full of glee.
No one could resist his adorable bright eyes like her Mom. He also got his dad’s subtle charm to pair his ever-growing personality. A good-looking kid, isn’t he?
He was truly a gift to his parents. They might have shared dozen of stories fitting to a young couple trying the world but they got it all stuck, in a good way, together because of Zak. My heart still warms with happiness whenever I see him. I held him with love and care when he was a few months old. I just can’t believe I do have a godson for real. Running in my mind was, “What would entail having a godson? I am a godfather but how to be a godfather?”. I embraced every moment. I will let our connection–as godfather and godson–bare answers to these questions until lifetime. Asking these again in the future would mean a re-evaluation on my part but I intend to be a reliable and go-to godfather for him just so he will regard me most.
I was shocked to hear him calling me, “Tito Fah!“, when I visited their home I can’t remember when but my feeling from shock to excitement was beyond me because I did not expect him remembering me after a few months of not seeing each other. It is joy.
A fatherly instinct in me is born through him somehow. I share responsibility—when I accepted to be his godfather—together with his parents of bringing out the best in him for the world to see. Elation and my love for his family washes over me at times thinking when he’s all grown up with his sister and would be visiting me, their old man for a Sunday lunch while sitting on a rickety wicker chair by the porch, waiting to listen to their own stories, unexpected thoughts and exchange pleasant banter.
As he starts tilling his years of experience I wish him to be the good kid that he is. To never lose that charm and goofiness. I know he is smart in his own ways. Being familiar with all his toy hot wheels is rock. Telling his Mom and Dad to give him some slack now is a stretch for me being prude but I sure think he just have the brain paired with googly eyes that will make them proud, prouder and proudest of him in the years to come. I want him to do good in school and later on the world is his for the taking whatever he wants to be.
To you, Zak, my dear godson, Happy Birthday!