Nation and mourning

How to mourn⎯this seems to be one of the controversial issues these days with the passing of Fernando Poe Jr., the man who won the vote for president but lost the count in the May 2004 elections. Where do some people get the notion that they have the authority and the right to tell other people how to grieve? Here I am referring specifically to the Malacanang spokesman, who was quoted in several news broadcasts and newspapers as virtually telling mourners of FPJ how to conduct themselves at the wake in Sto. Domingo Church, how to act and not to act, what to say or not say, what to talk or not talk about, what to remember and not to remember about the man they loved, respected, and regarded as their leader. The only authority I know are those who suffer the pain of loss of a loved one and who must now struggle to find their own unique ways of coming to terms with that loss. And whether this happens in silent weeping or loud wailing, in quiet anger or fits of rage (and, thankfully, let out only against an unwelcome bunch of flowers), in calm acceptance or fierce determination, those who truly sympathise with the grieving can only be by the latter’s side and persistently struggle to find the words and gestures that could help bring comfort and make the pain bearable. There is no standard on how to mourn and there can never be even as some would like to standardise it, wittingly or unwittingly, as a way to control and manage the implications to their political present and futures. And it is unclear to me to which measure of conduct of ‘integrity’ and ‘dignity’ in mourning a woman lawyer was referring to when she offered the reminder to her audience and interlocutors in a television forum last night. What is clear to me is that someone who truly represented integrity and dignity in his public life (I do not presume to know his private life) has abruptly and unexpectedly passed on and now lies in state in Sto. Domingo Church. What is also clear to me is that the tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of people piling past his bier for a last glimpse of him already know integrity and dignity when they see one and need not be told what these words mean and how one is to live by them. Their choice of president is proof enough of that knowledge. And as I pay, through these words, my last respects to a man who dared to surpass his own limits and transgress his own personal interests for the ideal of building one nation (yes, this country has two ‘nations’, not one), I also pay respect to the multitude of mourners who constitute that other, bigger ‘nation’, which FPJ felt proud to belong and aspired to represent in the hope of ending its political exclusion. Not a few may feel that with FPJ’s passing that hope has died too. But history has shown that nations always tend to seek to create their own states, strive to build a form of government that would embody their ideals, uphold their values, protect their interests. It is, I hope, with this historical lesson in mind that the other nation of the politically and socially included will try to find in this moment the chance to reflect and critically examine the kind of ideals, values and interests it upholds and protects, and how the privileges it enjoys rest on the very exclusions of that other, bigger nation now grieving over the passing, oh no, not just of a popular actor, but a nation’s leader. And maybe, by dint of some miracle or mysterious grace, not a few of the still credible members of the socially privileged will also find the courage to transgress their own limits and self-interests, join the other in forming peaceful pathways that would bridge two nations, including the creation of a state that will truly work against any form of exclusion, because of an authentic desire to build one country, one nation.