mga pagmumuni ni carmen

I am not ashamed to admit that Manny Pacquiao and Marky Cielo (apart from Mark Herras) are the only ones who could bring out the fangirl in me. For Manny, I braved the rain and ran in the streets in my then brand-new heels just to see him ride past in one of his homecoming parades. For Marky, I would watch SOP or its reruns on YouTube when I knew he had a dance number because he moves really, really well.

Both my idols had the fight of their lives last Sunday.

One, whom I adore for his natural grace in the boxing ring, fought with the whole world watching and the entire nation alternating between cheering and praying for him. After 8 rounds, his opponent waved the white flag of surrender; he raised his arms in triumph with nary a scar to mar his face as his friends surrounded him and shared in his victory.

The other, whom I admired for his natural grace on the dance floor, fought a private battle in his bedroom. No one knew the trials he faced and struggled with everyday; his scars were hidden deep beneath his smiles and the pranks he pulled on his friends. His fight was abruptly ended after 20 years when he was called to be with his Creator; as the news spread, his friends surrounded him and mourned his loss.

In a small town in General Santos, one’s mother fainted with joy upon hearing the outcome of her son’s fight, which did not even last 12 rounds.

In a village in Antipolo, the other’s mother grieved when she found out early in the morning that her son prematurely lost his fight.

Today, Manny will probably get no rest as he prepares to receive a hero’s welcome from the President in Malacanang.

Today, Marky will be laid to rest in his province. May he be welcomed by angels in the Heaven.

Marky Cielo (May 12, 1988- December 7, 2008)