I couldn’t remember what day it was because I didn’t even know what was happening. There were, almost without falter, flashes in the sky followed by sounds like a moving thunder. This ain’t New Year’s eve – that I was sure, as the noise and the fireworks were unfamiliar to me. My mother unpacked four brand new t-shirts. She gave one to my father who, at that time, was listening keenly over the radio. The broadcaster was shouting. He was eating the sound from the black and white television conspicuously elevated in front of her. Those were the only things I could remember the night before. I never would have thought that many years would follow and I’d recollect these all.
I saw her wiped the tears. Though my father was not comforting her, I was sure that they were not figthing. I heard their conversations along with the Tv and the radio, and the moving thunder. They were all running fast in my ears that I couldn’t understand any of it. There was black and white action-packed movie going on in the screen.
It was an unusual morning. My mom pulled my right arm from the sleeve of the shirt she has unpacked the night when the moving thunder gave me an almost sleepless night. That was when I saw my aunts and uncles from both sides lined-up at the house’s corridor. They were all in yellow. I was in yellow, including my 5-year old brother. He was excited. I was confused. My brother had thought that we’re paying grandfather a visit. But I knew I would not be seeing lolo that day. My grandfather was a political detainee during the Marcoses from 1974 to 1986.
I knew many years after that I was just eight then and the street that I, my brother and my parents along with their friends traversed twenty-three years ago was Magallanes going to Ortigas. I said friends because they seemed to know each other. They talked. They shouted. They held hands. Embraced. Cried. And most of all, they were, like us, wearing yellow shirt too. It was clear.
When I graduated from High School, my father asked me If I still remember that event. I said yes. I asked him why he had to bring my 5-year old brother then. And so I knew that our house was situated near Villamor Air Base and uncertainty might arise if they both left us there. I recalled that the thinning thunder was just a stone-throw away from our window.
It was raining half-way through Ortigas. It was raining yellow confettis. Everybody was either crying or passionate of what they were doing, except for me and my brother. He was excited. I was confused. My aunts and uncles were along side of me, they were crying too. And from time to time, hugging me and my brother. There were many of us there. And I thought, this was similar to the action-packed movie my mother was watching before I’ve fallen asleep the night before. The color was the only difference. There were yellow everywhere.
I raised my hand when I was 8 years old. It said L. Laban, Cory. It was only after few years that I realized that I not only raised my L for Cory but for my grandfather too. I remembered how we would commute from Manila to Bicol only to see my grandfather’s face behind that rustic bars.
Cory restored democracy and civility in this country. She ended the 12-year ordeal of my grandfather. He continued to serve the goverment until 1992 and died 3 years after. My grandfather wanted me to follow in his footstep but my father refused the idea. The family wanted to disconnect from any political joint.
My father was picked up from University of the Philippines mid-afternoon by still unknown group three years before I was born. He was harrassed. He was tortured. He never finished college. But his fight against the goverment did not stop. My father was dating my future mother in 1975. Afraid that she would be picked up too, they separated for one year. He went to Samar. She went to General Santos. She continued her study in GenSan. And in 1977, they got married.
I raised my hand when I was 8 years old. It said L. Laban, Cory. It was only after few years that I realized that I not only raised my L for Cory but for parents too.
Today, I will not raise my L for Cory anymore. I will wear it, instead.
Very nice!