History is written on the sands of...

On the day of President Cory's funeral my brother and I decided to meet her funeral cortege, which was a good thing because all morning I felt like I was letting history pass me by. We left after lunch and arrived on the road where the cortege was going to pass by when we arrived there were already people lining the streets wearing yellow shirts or yellow bandanas, some people were on the island and up on the trees all in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the late president's cortege.

The wait lasted for four hours and through all that time the crowd didn't thin or waver even though the rain kept pouring down on us but it was worth the wait when the cortege finally arrived. It was a strange feeling watching the flatbed truck carrying President Cory's body just a few feet away from me. The four soldiers standing guard where steady as a rock despite standing there for nine hours straight and they seemed unfazed as everyone waved the LABAN sign at them, chanting Cory's name.

I mean, the cortege was right there, a few feet from me! My feet hurt, I was a little soaked from the constant downpour but it seemed small compared to what I actually witnessed, it felt great sharing this moment with so many people. People I don't even know but there was a feeling of camaraderie and joy at that moment. It wasn't just about mourning then, it felt like a celebration.

When we got home my family immediately tuned in to the last rites ceremony and it was all so moving, it felt like it was the end of an era. The era where a generation braved and fought against tyranny and won through an amazing peaceful rally, a rally led by this woman who considered herself 'just a housewife' and rose to the occasion and became the leader of our nation.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop now and it's been a few days after the funeral but I could still see the yellow ribbons. Once again, paalam at salamat, Tita Cory.


A few photos taken that day:
( a thousand words to say )