No curtains. No quiet sobbing in the back pews. No sanitized goodbye. Just flashes of cameras, hushed gasps, long embraces between frenemies, and the unmistakable energy of the Philippine entertainment industry gathering for one last performance. That was the scene inside the Aeternitas Chapels in Quezon City, where Lolit Solis—veteran columnist, fearless publicist, unapologetic commentator—was laid to rest. Or rather, sent off like the star she had always insisted she wasn’t, yet undeniably was.

From the moment the wake opened its doors, the air buzzed—not just with grief, but with anticipation. Who would show up? Who wouldn’t? Who would speak? What would they say? It was, ironically, a setup Lolit herself would’ve relished. A plot she could’ve written, complete with guest list drama, surprise appearances, and carefully timed revelations. It was a wake that looked suspiciously like a press junket, with the media hanging on every quote, every tear, every slip of emotion.

“She would’ve loved this,” someone whispered. And truly, she would have.

The chapel filled quickly. Celebrities didn’t just drop by—they made entrances. Talent managers, TV hosts, character actors, leading ladies, aging matinee idols—they all came, some with stories to tell, some simply to be seen. Some wore sunglasses indoors, others clutched tissue like it was their last prop. There were no scripts, but everyone seemed to know their lines.

On Instagram, her daughter Sneezy Solis-McDonald captured the heart of the moment in just a few words: “If the sheer number of people who came… is a testament to how much of a force you are… I love you, Ma.” A force. That’s what Lolit was. Not just a gossip columnist, not just a showbiz personality, but a cultural institution whose opinions could launch or sink a career, whose columns were dissected like tea leaves, searching for the next scandal or saving grace.

But behind that tough, no-filter façade was someone fiercely loyal to her inner circle. That’s what drew so many people to her wake—not fear, not obligation, but a strange, raw affection that had been shaped by decades of headline battles and industry wars. Lolit never pretended to be kind. But she never pretended to be anyone else, either.

One actor, speaking quietly, said, “She once wrote something brutal about me. I didn’t talk to her for years. But when I got sick, she was one of the first to check on me. She didn’t apologize. She just said, ‘Ayan, buhay ka pa pala.’ That was her way.”

And maybe that was the essence of Lolit: sharp edges and secret softness. She could destroy you in one sentence, but she might also be the one defending you when everyone else turned away. Her contradictions were her charm. Her honesty was brutal, but never boring. Even in her passing, she refused to fade into a quiet goodbye.

On the second night, someone brought a portable speaker and played a playlist of her favorite songs—campy, dramatic, unapologetically old school OPM. A few laughed. Some sang along. One director was overheard saying, “Only Lolit would turn her wake into a wrap party.”

There were tears, of course. There always are. But more than that, there were stories—so many stories. Of fights, of forgiveness, of phone calls at midnight, of unsolicited advice, of loyalty repaid, of grudges that lingered but never truly hardened. Everyone had a Lolit story. Everyone remembered a time she shocked them, scolded them, or silently stood by them when they needed it most.

Even those she once clashed with came. Not necessarily to make peace, but perhaps to acknowledge the role she played in shaping the industry they lived in. She was unavoidable, unforgettable, unfiltered. A voice that didn’t ask for permission. A presence that didn’t require applause. But she got it anyway.

The final night ended quietly, surprisingly. No staged tributes, no grand eulogies, no red carpet. Just a slow dispersal of people who had, for a brief moment, put down their public personas to share in something raw and real. One last gathering in her name. One last headline—this time, she wasn’t the writer, but the subject.

And even in that, she left on her terms.

Because that’s how Lolit Solis always lived: in the thick of the story, never on the sidelines. She was the eye of the storm and the pen behind the chaos. She called out stars and created some too. She was controversial, complicated, and completely irreplaceable.

Her wake wasn’t just a farewell. It was a final chapter only she could inspire—unexpected, emotional, and unmistakably hers.

She didn’t fade to black.
She left with the lights still on.