Dispatch for august 5 , 2013 monday , 5 pia calabarzon prs , 11 weather watch,

akin, simple lang naman po ang paliwanag diyan. Karamihan ho sa inyo nandito, palagay ko mayroon kayong mga pinahiram na mga painting na bigay sa inyo ng Nanay ko—buti pa kayo. [laughter] Tinanong ko pa kasi Nanay ko, sabi ko, ―Mom, favorite son mo ako, wala ka pang binibigay sa akin.‖ Sagot niya sa akin, ―Pulitiko ka, baka pamigay mo lang.‖ Ngayon, nalaman ko lang si Vice President mayroon din—pulitiko rin siya. Hanggang namatay ang Nanay ko, may pinahiram po siya sa aking mga paintings sa office sa Senate, and now in my office currently, naka-display doon. On-loan from the family siguro iyon. Kaya tatanungin ko baka mayroong note na iniwan ang Nanay ko na baka mayroong conditionality na when I retire from politics, I will be given a painting—miski a painting.

Those of you with whom I have had the pleasure of sharing some personal time will attest to my love of books and music. Of course, now that very little of my time is my own, the piles of CDs and reading material that I must set aside for another day grow taller each time I look at them. For now—and for the next two years, eleven months, and two days—the thought of turning up the volume, and actually immersing myself in a book without worrying about things of national importance, must remain something to look forward to.

I believe that what those books and CDs are to me, painting was to Mom—a president who, in light of the enormous challenges she faced, had to defer simpler pleasures for a later time. After all, she had to restore and nurture a democracy after more than a decade of tyranny. And there were also the coup attempts, the Mt. Pinatubo eruption, and a very long El Niño, among others. She had to be a mother to the entire nation. In that trying time, prayer—which was already a constant in her life—became her greatest refuge.

Given her presidency, and the amount of time she spent helping others, my sisters and I were glad to see Mom develop an interest in painting. Beginning in 1996, Mom worked with oils and acrylics under the guidance of Jeff Consumo to produce studies on her favorite subjects: women and flowers, all in bright colors.

Looking back, I cannot think of an activity more appropriate for Mom—someone who wanted a quiet home life, who would have been content with being a wife and partner to Dad, and a mother to us. So, even if she could never fully withdraw from the public sphere, Mom took the opportunity to revert to quiet things on her own time. As my older sister Ballsy said in a speech two years ago: Painting was an extension of Mom‘s deep and abiding spirituality. And it was only natural for this to come to life in the canvases she filled with images of optimism and hope, expressions of her appreciation for the simplest, and yet the most beautiful things in life.

In these ideals, Mom has always been consistent. She understood how freedom was such a fundamental requirement for human life, and so she fought for it and taught others to appreciate and care for it. She had every hope that the Philippines could rise above the dark days of Martial Law, and so she did all that she could to uplift the country, and to inspire others to do the same.

Mom‘s paintings are a very small part of the legacy she left behind. It is a legacy we feel every day as we live and work in a society now free from the iron fist of the dictator and from a military and police force who existed to serve one man alone. Most people would think that my family would be daunted by all this; they will wonder if we are burdened by the pressure to live up to our name. Let me be clear: it is not a burden. It reminds us what each and every one of us is capable of. This is also why I keep Mom‘s painting of some flowers and a rosary in my office in Malacañang—an office once used ironically by Mr. Marcos himself.

More than ensuring that Mom and Dad are always close by, that painting reminds me what my duties are as President and as a Filipino. Our parents were extraordinary people who did extraordinary things, but the lessons they taught us were very simple: live with honor and follow your conscience. Always make the most of opportunities to alleviate the suffering of your countrymen. And, perhaps the simplest lesson of all: have faith, in both God and the people. It was because of faith that Mom found the courage to stand up against the dictatorship.

It was because of faith that she was able to keep putting other people before herself, to keep giving until the very end.

Mom valued her privacy, but she was never a solitary or selfish person. Whether in prayer, in service, or in art, the thought of other people was never far from her mind. So, even when she found a hobby she could truly indulge in, she chose to instead give of herself just a little more. She held joint exhibits with friends, and sold some of her paintings to raise funds for her advocacies. And she also gave away many of her works to friends and colleagues—those of you here with us today, and may I add also relatives excluding yours truly. [laughter] I believe there is no more appropriate title for this exhibit than the one it bears: ―A Gift of Self‖. We would not be here if it were not for Mom‘s selflessness. This is more than just an art exhibit, and my family and I are humbled and honored by your presence here: by the way the entire nation continues to cherish Cory Aquino and her legacy.

And it is our deepest hope that your love for Mom does not stop with gratitude—that you choose to live out her example every day, and do your part in building a better country.

Thank you. Good evening.

[HOME]