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For a moment there, I thought she had committed suicide, or worse. There was a blind gap of five days that she didn't call, or visit. I was afraid that she was overcome by her sadness, stretched to a point where the only solace was in death itself.

For almost a year now, I've known her --- but it seemed like she's always been there na. Gina is a friend, an officemate at one time, a pal in times of despair and alcohol-induced laughter, and a shoulder to lean on for Joy and me, when our in-laws got too much for us. She was there when I got married, and was even a ninang to our eldest. She was a picture of happiness as she held the bawling 3-month old Jose Miguel Reyes.

When I met that accident last December, she came and comforted Joy and the kids. She had become more than a friend to Joy and myself. She had become family.

She was Gina to us, but she was Auntie Gina to Mico. Even Joy's grownup nieces and nephews called her Auntie or Tita. And even though she never married (which Joy and I found rather childish at one point), her pride and joy were kids. She had becom a permanent fixture in Sunday Family lunches and outings. Occasionally, Alvin, Louie, or Martin would join us.

Eventually, she did end up opening a small school for kids. She loved kids, and teaching came natural to her (too natural in fact that she had a short albeit steamy tryst with a student when she tried her hand at college teaching --- she never taught college after that). To her students, she wasn't just Ms. Gina, she was the grownup who understood them. She was a playmate and a confidant to some, and a hundred feet tall to others.

(.... and then, I lost steam. man... i have to develop my skill in sentimental story-telling....)



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