In the quiet, hallowed space of grief, a parent is surrounded by ghosts. They are in the clothes left hanging, the gadgets sitting silent, the collections gathering dust. For Kim “Kuya Kim” Aenza, these were not just things; they were the tangible, painful remnants of his beloved son, Eman Atienza. For months, following the tragedy that shattered his family, Aenza remained a figure of public silence, a man known for his vibrant TV personality, now hollowed by a private, unimaginable loss.

But in a recent, deeply emotional announcement, Kim Aenza broke his silence. He emerged not with words of sorrow, but with a testament of profound love and a decision that has stunned the nation.

He is giving it all away.

“Ibibigay ko ang lahat sa mga bata. Wala na akong itatago. Ito ang gusto ni Eman.” (I will give everything to the children. I will hide nothing. This is what Eman wanted.)

This was not a token gesture. This was a complete and total act of surrender—a father’s decision to donate every single personal item, every asset, every gadget, and every collection his son had acquired. It is an act of “pakawala,” or letting go, so profound that it has left the public in awe. For a parent, these items represent the last physical connection to a child. To give them away is a second, symbolic loss.

But as Kim Aenza explained, with tears held back, this was not a loss. It was a fulfillment.

This entire, unbelievable act of charity is rooted in Eman’s own character. According to his father, Eman was a young man defined by his kindness and empathy. “Kahit bata pa siya, may puso talaga para tumulong,” Kim shared, describing how his son would return from trips abroad not with boasts, but with stories of the children he’d met—children with big dreams but no opportunities.

The story then takes a turn that can only be described as a premonition. Weeks before his sudden passing, Eman had a specific conversation with his father. “Dad, someday I want to help children who have no family to support them,” Eman told him. “Kahit papaano, gusto kong maramdaman nilang hindi sila nag-iisa.” (In any way I can, I want them to feel that they are not alone.)

Those words, which may have seemed like a simple, kind-hearted wish at the time, now echo with the weight of a final request. They have become Eman’s last will and testament, a promise that his father is now devoted to fulfilling.

The items—the gadgets, the study materials, the personal collections—are not being sold or stored. They are being given directly to orphanages, youth foundations, and environmental groups that Eman himself had supported. His father is ensuring that the tools of his son’s life will now be used to build the lives of others.

The public reaction was immediate and filled with admiration. Netizens remarked that it is “rare” for parents to have the strength to give up items with such immense “sentimental value.” One comment captured the essence of the act: “Ang kabutihan ni Eman, hindi natapos sa kanyang pagpanaw — ipinagpatuloy ng kanyang ama.” (Eman’s kindness didn’t end with his passing—it is being continued by his father.)

For Kim Aenza, the journey to this decision was forged in the darkest of moments. He had previously recalled the instant he learned of Eman’s death: “Napaluhod ako, nanlamig ako.” (I fell to my knees, I went cold.) It is a moment of paralyzing shock that every parent dreads. The months that followed were a blur of private mourning.

But this decision marks a powerful shift, from the paralysis of grief to the momentum of purpose. The turning point was not just logical, but spiritual.

During a simple ceremony to formalize the donations, as Kim stood surrounded by his son’s legacy, he says something unexplainable happened. A “malambing na hangin,” a gentle breeze, moved through the hall, a moment of profound calm in the midst of his emotional speech.

As he looked up, tears streaming, he whispered, “Parang yakap ni Eman.” (It feels like a hug from Eman.)

For the grieving father, this was the sign he needed. It was a “message from heaven,” an affirmation from his son that this decision, this impossible act of letting go, was right. It was the moment that brought him peace, the feeling that Eman was happy with what he was doing.

This act of charity is not the end of the story. It is the beginning. Kim Aenza also announced the establishment of the “Emanenza Foundation.” The name itself is a portmanteau, a combination of “Eman” and the Italian word “Essenza,” which means “essence” or “soul.”

“Because we believe,” Kim explained, “that even though he is no longer with us, his goodness will remain the essence of other people’s lives.”

The foundation will be the long-term engine for Eman’s wishes, providing scholarship grants and supporting environmental programs for young people. It is a permanent structure built on the foundation of a son’s love.

Kim Aenza is no longer just a man in mourning. He is a father on a mission, a custodian of his son’s compassionate legacy. He has found a way to navigate the impossible.

“I can’t bring Eman back,” he said, his voice raw with a truth that will never fade. “But I want others to feel the goodness that he left behind. In this way, his memory will stay alive.”

As he finished, he looked to the sky, a quiet message for his son. “Anak, I promised you—in every child this foundation helps, we will see the continuation of your life.”