Dear Cory,
I read someone say something today and found it most apt. That your death was like losing a limb.
I've been gone for blogging for months now because I couldn't find anything meaningful to write. And then you die and I feel like I have to say something about it. I think everyone has felt that way too, the need to express their emotions in some form - whether it was to line up in the blazing Manila heat for 3 hours to catch a seconds glimpse of you, or sprinkle confetti from an office building, or sing Bayan Ko with much fervor for the first time again in years, or to tie that yellow ribbon on you facebook profile, or tweet in 120 characters. From far away here in Vietnam your loss is felt. I saw it in the faces of the Pinoys who went to church last Sunday wearing yellow. I greeted my friend all donned in your favorite color with a teasing, "Hello Tita Cory", and her response was tears welling up as she told me how she had cried the whole night, and when she called her family back in Manila how her whole family cried too. I saw it in the Pinoys gathering outside the church in a somber mood, understanding without words being spoken how each other was feeling and what that sad day meant. Yes, losing you was like losing a limb.
What is it about you, people ask that brings such magic? That arouses such emotions? You were not a rockstar who mesmerized loudly. You were not like Obama with his charisma overflowing you could almost touch it. Not even like Ninoy, in fact, you were the opposite of Ninoy - while he managed to stir raging emotions with his highly-charged speeches, you were the calm among a sea of distress (and there always was much distress). Your words were measured, diction perfect, you were more than once accused of being a boring speaker. But you kept on and as you grew older the more you looked stronger, became more unwavering in the things you believed in: God, Family and the Filipino. It was ironic that in your frailty, you exuded strength. You had become everyone's mom - the kind that soothes just by her mere presence. Perhaps we were spoiled in thinking that as long as you are there everything will turn out fine. After all, without fail, you were there when it mattered. But even super heroes need their rest. Even the best actors need their final curtain call. Even you needed to fly away.
And so we lost you a few days ago. But Cory you were ever so alive as you journeyed past the monuments in EDSA, in Ayala for the last time. Did we really lose you? Somewhere, somehow you would still be watching and I hope and pray that when the time comes when the Filipino whom you believed in so much needs to ignite that fire again (frankly i think it's way past due), we won't fail you but more importantly we won't fail ourselves. You were the most loved president and today that shines through even more as we see the stark difference between your grace and the arrogance of the one sitting in Malacanang. We need your magic more than ever in these gloomy times, but I believe most of us also understand that the time has come to make it on our own.
Thank you Cory for all the love, the grace, the faith and the promise that wherever you are you are still watching, waiting, cheering and believing in us. We promise that we won't be lost forever.
Much love and respect,
The Lost Boys & Girls
