EDSA was like a parking lot from hell. But on that particular evening, I didn't mind the standstill traffic. I wanted to make sense of things and the time alone in the car was a welcome respite. There was this project I had been working on for over two years, a project close to my heart. I had invested much and poured my heart into it. Many had advised me against it but I paid no heed. Only because I trusted my partners. Now, it seemed like they didn't deserve that. They had gone ahead and made a decision to close shop without even telling me. I attempted to reach out to no avail. They had wordlessly cast me aside. My investments had meant nothing. I felt heartbroken.
You know those times as a child when you would run crying to your dad, seeking his help? I was big on that as a kid. Whether it's because I tripped and hurt myself or I got bullied by my big brother, I would always speed off to my dad for comfort and protection. The bruises didn't heal any faster and my brother didn't behave any better but still, having my dad there for me somehow held a magic that made everything alright.
That evening on EDSA, more than anything in the world I wanted to run to my Tatay. And my longing was so strong it was easy to imagine him sitting beside me, reaching out to hold my hand. It was just as easy to hear him tell me that things will turn out fine. That, no, I didn't deserve to get hurt that way by anyone when I had enough to deal with as it was. He would argue that, yes, I may be badly wounded but definitely not broken. That his Pangga could not be broken just like that.
When we are hurt, it is the most natural thing in the world to run to the people whom we are certain will never hurt us. And we find solace hearing their words of comfort. From his special nook in Heaven, I heard my Tatay loud and clear.
Yes, wounded but not broken. Tatay's Pangga would be just fine.