Pain never really goes away — Gina

In the months leading to December 2004, Gina de Venecia noticed that her 16-year-old daughter Kristina Casimira (KC) often wanted to be by her side.

"I don’t know if it was a premonition," Gina, wife of Speaker Jose de Venecia Jr., told The STAR on the eve of the first death anniversary of KC, who perished in a fire that razed the De Venecias’ Dasmariñas Village residence. "But KC always wanted to be with me then. When I went to the States for a week for my medical check-up, she accompanied me. I think she was trying to bond with me."

It was unusual, recalls Gina, for KC was the independent and feisty type. Not the type to cling to her mother, not even when, as a five-year-old, she broke an arm and had to wear a cast. "KC never wanted to be babied," says Gina of her "baby."

On Dec. 16, 2004, Gina had just hosted a Christmas party for her media friends at their Magnolia street residence. At around 8:30 p.m., Gina was restless and confided over the phone to KC’s godmother Kris Aquino, "Krissy, I don’t feel right, something will happen. I couldn’t tell exactly but I knew something was going to happen."

After she hung up with Kris, Gina did some paperwork on her second floor bedroom with her secretary Nikki, when a maid knocked. It was around 9 p.m.

"She said, ‘Nasusunog ho, may sunog!’ (There’s a fire!) I asked, ‘Nasaan ang mga bata (Where are the children)?’ They told me, didn’t the children just ask your permission to go to Starbucks? I wanted to make sure so I opened the door. The hall was already pitch black. So what I did, I went to Joe’s bathroom, got a towel and wet it thoroughly. But the maid yanked me away from the door because I couldn’t possibly have gone out into the hall that was smoky and pitch black. And then, I forgot I had an exit door. The maid led me to it. I had no slippers. I had to grope for them.

"I kept on calling Chris (the De Venecia’s eldest son) and KC on their cell phones. But Chris’ phone was on silent mode. KC’s phone number that was registered on the phone I was using at that time was different. You see, she kept on changing her phone, she kept on losing her phone. I was calling Cam (Chris’ girlfriend), who was with him. But her phone was also on silent mode."

Gina sent an electrician to Chris and KC’s rooms and was momentarily relieved when he reported that the children weren’t there. Gina’s relief was short-lived for her eldest daughter Carissa then came running to her, crying: "Mommy, I called up KC and she said ‘Help, help!’ Mommy, KC is inside!’" KC was not in her room for she had sought refuge in her brother’s bathroom, in a tub filled with water, a wet towel draped over her head. It was there that she breathed her last.

When did Gina know in her heart that KC was gone?

"Only when Chris arrived an hour later and KC was not with him. I told myself, with that fire, hindi na makakaligtas ang anak ko (She could not have escaped). So I took a lot of Valium. I called up Joe in Congress. I knew hindi na makakaligtas yung anak ko," she repeats, the memory of that terrible night bringing fresh tears to her eyes.

"And then I was so upset because the firemen had no water! Where have you seen firemen without water?"

Gina also regrets that the windows of their house were sealed off by heavy grills.

"KC probably died of suffocation. She didn’t suffer long. I think it’s as if she just wiggled out her body. According to some monks, 30 days before you die, you know it already. The spirit chooses the kind of death you want."

If that were the case, Gina is not surprised that her darling daughter died that way.

"She was a brave girl. Maybe she wanted to repent for whatever sins she had so she could go straight up to heaven. She suffered. It was not an easy death," says Gina.

The most painful moment, recalls Gina, was when KC’s blanket-covered body was wheeled out of the house, whose second floor was totally gutted by flames. "I hugged her when she was brought down," Gina said, her tears beginning to well up, threatening to spill down her cheeks. "Then I told Carissa, ‘Take her to the morgue.’ Then I hugged her one last time and whispered, ‘I love you, KC.’"

Unbearable pain

But Gina did not have the steely courage of KC, for in the hours, the days, the weeks and the months following KC’s death, she was inconsolable.

She barely made it through the next days, wondering why she, who had devoted most of her life to helping others, had to endure the death of her daughter.

"I couldn’t take the pain, that’s why during the wake, I was only there two hours a day. I would go at 6 p.m. for the Mass, and at 8 p.m. I would leave. I don’t remember who condoled with me. The human mind and emotions have a shutdown mechanism. When a tragedy happens, it shuts down. You don’t want to remember the painful episodes. The only one I remember was (TV host) Ali Sotto because I was also there at the wake of her son, Mikko, a year ago. Maybe Mikko’s death prepared me. Two days before KC’s death, Ali and I bumped into each other in the wake of FPJ. I asked her, ‘Ali, how are you coping?’ She said ‘Manay, a little better.’ When she visited me during KC’s wake, that’s the first time I broke down. I cried for 15 minutes. Ali knew my pain."

The following months were like a blur. Friends were politely asked to refrain from asking Gina, "How are you?" The answer was obvious. The grieving mother wasn’t fine at all.

"I was like wasting my life away," recalls Gina. "I needed to see the light. At that time in my life, I just wanted to die. I couldn’t take the pain."

Did she ever consider taking her life?

"No, but I was praying that God would take me. I thought, ‘What’s the use of living if I’m feeling this way?’ But I was afraid of taking my own life because then I would never go to heaven." And the realization that Joe and her other children still needed her brought her back from the brink.

In April, shortly before KC’s 17th birth anniversary, she asked President Arroyo if she could join the delegation to Pope John Paul II’s funeral in Rome and the President gladly said yes.

It was on a side trip to the shrine of St. Patrizia, the patron saint of Naples, that Gina found closure and peace. With Gina were her friend Marot Moreno and former social welfare secretary Dinky Soliman.

"The story is she has dried blood that is kept in two cups and enclosed in a chalice. The dried blood liquefies when she’s visited by pious pilgrims. It’s not all the time it liquefies, she chooses pilgrims. The blood is black, because it was shed 1,600 years ago. You could see through the glass that it was dry and black. While I was there, the Mother General went to me. She took out the big chalice, the two cups of dried blood. She said, make your petition. We all did. In my heart, I prayed, ‘Sta. Patrizia, if KC is okay wherever she is, please show me by liquefying your blood. I just want to be assured that my daughter is okay.’ The Mother General said, ‘Let’s pray the ‘Glory Be’... We prayed. On the fourth Glory Be, I saw the cup with the black dried blood, tumutulo na (dripping). On the fifth Glory Be, the dripping blood was bubbling. We all saw it. I prayed, ‘Sta. Patrizia, thank you so much. I was crying. Thank you so much na, you’re telling me my daughter’s okay." When Gina took a last look at the chalice before she left the chapel, the blood had dried up anew.

Moving on

When Gina returned to Manila, she was a different person. She in fact found enough strength to comfort another bereaved mother, Menchie Abalos, who also lost a daughter, Ciara. Gina promised Menchie, "I’ll help you move on."

Aside from being there for her family, Gina has found another reason to live — helping other mothers despondent over the loss of a child.

She founded "INA," which stands for Inang Naulila sa Anak (Mothers who have lost their children). Its core members include Ali Sotto, Irma Santiago, mother of Luigi Santiago, the director; Baby Tiaoqui, whose daughter Carissa, died of cancer, and the mother of 19-year-old Xavier Yu, who fell out of a building.

Tomorrow, the first death anniversary of KC, Gina will lead groundbreaking rights for the INA center, which she wants to be a "haven for bereaved mothers." It will rise in DSWD compound in Quezon City and will reach out also to mothers who do not have the financial means to seek professional grief counseling.

Nowadays, Gina likes wearing blouses with butterfly prints. "KC, like a butterfly, had a short but glorious life and she gave joy to many. Once I saw a butterfly hovering around me. I wanted to touch it but it flitted away. I think KC was telling me, ‘Mom, let me be,’"

Gina smiles a bright smile for the first time in our interview. "Even if KC had a short life and I had to relive that kind of pain I experienced after losing her, I would never exchange KC for anybody else. I would still have KC all over again, again and again."