Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Heartaches, Disappointments

I know that I am supposed to be in bed right this moment after eight hours of being at work. However, there are two things right now that has been keeping my mind far from being rested. It's a mind that's full of questions more than anything else.

At the start of the week, I chanced up with my former editor-in-chief who, after exchanging a few hi's and hellos with me over YM, broke a news that has kept my heart a bit blue -- this quarter's magazine issue might be the last release. While she got to answer a few of the why's that I had, I cannot disclose everything. All I knew was there was this wandering thought inside and a little of that sadness knowing that the place where I got "the break that I wanted" in my writing career would eventually bid bye-bye soon.

And just when I thought that's all, yesterday evening, I woke to the news that again, flooded my mind both with questions and frustrations. Hearing the acquittal of Vizconde massacre suspects and seeing a devastated father and widower, I can't help but shed a tear of disgust and disappointment too. Why not, for one, I practically and literally grew up hearing all about a crime that jolted a nation. I was just seven then, almost the same as the youngest victim when it made the front page of newspapers. And yet, whenever years pass without a trace, I was among those who are also thinking how it would eventually end. As the verdict was released and reported yesterday, I can't help myself from having this huge feeling of disappointment and disgust. Until now, I can't help but think that for 19 years, there was someone who was trying to live his life day-to-day alone by himself when he should be spending his old age happily with his family. That there was a man who, for almost two decades, decided not to celebrate Christmas as he kept searching for justice. With the hope that in due time, it will be righteously served -- only to reach this point, that after years and decades, things would just end to a futile endeavor.

And as I read the newspaper today, I find it hard to believe that one would dare to remark, "now, he (Mr. Vizconde) is free to find the real killers of his family." The nerve of that person to say that to someone who is already in his old age.

While I feel so disheartened, part of me is saying that, something is undoubtedly wrong in our (judiciary) system. Not just wrong but undoubtedly and terribly wrong.

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