This came from Tita Ninfa Leonardia's column in the Visayan Daily Star, April 20, 2016 .
How many times have I started to write this column since Monday? After starting a sentence, I would stop, start another one, and then another, and finally write something else, something that would not cause tears to fall on the machine, and have me bawling again. I admitted that I was in a terrible stage of denial, because I did not want to write about something that had caused such shock and grief as what I felt Monday night.
***
My sister Perla and I had just been having our regular medical check-ups, and having to see two doctors in one afternoon had us cooling our heels for a total of almost four hours, including the stop at the pharmacy to get the prescriptions filled. It was while we were on our way to the STAR office that I got a text message from Dr. Ver Lacson, who was in Manila, informing that our dear friend Ivy Visitacion was in a bad state, at the hospital Intensive Care Unit, at that! I immediately wanted to rush to the hospital, but my sister reminded me that we were already late for work, and I had still a lot of articles to edit, as well as my column to write.
***
That was almost 8 o'clock already, so I realized she was right. But I still planned to go to the hospital, no matter how late we left the office. It was only after a few minutes, I think, when Carla came rushing down looking grim, saying it was John Orola on the phone, and he was afraid to talk to me. What else could I think? It took a long time before either John or I could be coherent enough to talk about what happened. Without words, I understood what his call meant, as we communicated with our sobs and hiccups.
***
How could either of us believe that Ivy, our glamorous, ever available, intelligent, talented and constant companion at socials, religious activities, club affairs, outings, and all kinds of activities, always glowing, impeccably made up, with not a blonde hair out of place, be gone? How can we stand not being able to call, or get a call from her in the wee hours of the morning when she caught a piece of news on TV she thought we would be interested in? Or some harmless gossip about people we both know?
***
Although she grew up in Dumaguete and came to Bacolod only later, it seems we have known each other forever. Our careers had parallels, too. While I was involved in the print media, she was in radio. We were two girls trying to get a foot into the field formerly monopolized by men. At about the same time, she became president of the local Kapisanan ng mga Brodkasters sa Pilipinas, while I headed the Negros Press Club. That was why I always got invited to KBP affairs and she to the NPC gatherings.
***
I left Bacolod to work in Makati and was gone for some six years, but when I returned to Bacolod, I got involved in press affairs again. We were able to renew ties once more, until the time when she gave up her radio work, which was near the time the DAILY STAR was born. For years, I cajoled her into writing for the STAR, but she always said writing was not her forte. I didn't believe her, and persisted, until she gave in. Later she told me how much she enjoyed writing “Behind the Scenes”, and how grateful she was that I “forced” her to write. Soon I noted that she had been giving good advice to radio fans, an asked her if she could do a “Tell Your Tita” column in the paper. It became a hit immediately. Even men would comment on it, and it tickled her.
***
For the DAILY STAR's 34 th anniversary, she said she could not get up because of severe arthritic pains. I worried about her because she had also told me that her doctor had already called her a “walking time bomb” because of her erratic blood pressure. But, as her son, Pastor Gary, admitted yesterday, his Mom loved to eat. Although we kidded her about her increasing weight, she didn't mind. She was one who could take any teasing with aplomb, but warned us that once she had chased someone down Lacson Street, in front of their studio then, with a kitchen knife! Guess who?
***
How could one talk or write calmly about such a friend? Her son told me that she had asked him recently to do something she wanted for my brother Bing, of whom she was very protective. Ah, we will miss our regular Saturday dinners at L'Fisher where the waiters already memorize our favorite dishes. Although I know she is now happy with her Saviour, how can we, her friends, not continue to miss this multi-talented woman, and wonderful mother to her children? Dearest Ivy, we will all miss you so!*
