Lolit Solis, 1947 - 2025
Lolit Solis became Nay Lolit—even to enemies, of which the count is enough—because she was a writer. It was from there that everything came—the deals, the jobs, the influence, the entourage, the funds, as much as the fame and the infamy.
In between, she became many things quite lucrative—talent manager and TV host, line producer and publicist, PR crisis manager and content creator, streaming platform commentator and even political whisperer—but it was the writing that made her.
It was also the writing she used to slug it out in the world.
It was the fresh bouquet she offered when she wanted something; it was the sharp rock she hurled when she failed to get it. But, whether bouquet or rock, the writing was something she wielded expertly.
For a long time, her actual course, said to be taken at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, confused. Some said Mass Communications; many more said, Political Science. The Philippine Entertainment Portal (PEP.ph), seeking an end to the confusion, checked. Word came back from the UP Office of the Registrar: There is no record of enrollment of a Lolita Solis in UP. (Communication, July 8, 2025)
Funny thing is, Lolit had long demonstrated superior skills at both politics and writing.
She navigated the layered politics of showbiz deftly, proof of which is where she stood in it by the time she passed away on July 3, 2025. At her wake, no less than the giant GMA-7 network hosted the last night of tributes. As for the writing, she reached the top tier of entertainment scribes, proof of which is how many controversies she managed to parlay as legit news and how many tabloid and IG posts she managed to distress people with over four decades.
But, there's the rub.
It is a stretch to call her a journalist. She did not, as is the discipline, gather data, make sense of it, write it up—without contaminating the material as interested party. Instead, she did the very opposite. She would get the kernel of a story, seed it as plot favoring one party—a party more likely than not to be her paying client—and then pass off the story to the public as unadorned truth.
Even as columnist, one whose opinion can legitimately frame facts, her operation went too far.
First, she provoked, staged a tiny scandal, built tension.
Next, she responded to the response, now sounding more provoked than the party she first provoked. To do so, she skewed logic, deflected blame, sowed confusion.
Next, because the psychology said people liked taking sides, she assigned a hero, painted a villain.
And then last, she told the truth or she did not, that was a call she herself made, but her end game was always to win a now very confused audience.
In that chaos, she thrived.
Unforgiveably, however, it was the editorial pages—not fiction sheets, not parody, not satire, not literary platforms—she lit on.
In these pages, she liked to sound upright, if humorous, like someone you could laugh with. But as she laughed, she was also releasing info, deliberate and targeted. Here, she wasn't one to think small, either. She went for the big and the loud; thinking maybe the big lie repeated loudly was more believable. To detonate the ammo over a larger landscape, she cultivated loyalists among editors and reporters who would march, from belief or for benefit, as lieutenants in her war games.
For Lolit, nothing about this disturbed ethics.
For her, writing was trade, was contest, was fair game.
One where people bowed to name, to connection, to longevity—all three of which, having begun her showbiz journey in the '60s, she had. And one where she began telling herself she had the clout to change the rules.
This being showbiz, the rules included the spin. In this, Lolit was a master. She could hijack a narrative, build a tale out of mere chatter, sell something as fact. Blind items were easy pickings. She knew how to punch in clues that got readers excited and guessing correctly; and, very Lolit, was never overly careful anyway about small irritants like libel and privacy laws.
On top of this, she knew how to make it all work for the stars in her stable. Stars who began as clients, moved on as friends, formed the inner circle, and finally became family. To them, she would text, "Anak, luv u"; for them, she would cross the line.
And so it is that, in tabloid columns, radio shows, online programs—and before that, in television talk shows and movie mags—she made herself more strident and as offensive as it took to wear the other party down. This was the lot only of those not within her stable, of course. Sometimes, the old Lolit, the one with less cunning and friendlier, surfaced. But in the final run, she became more comfortable being cross, more comfortable going for the kill, more comfortable being, that's it!, a media personality.
This included, sadly, being comfortable with the logic she had perfected, the one that became as stunning as it was twisted.
It was a logic that did not allow her to apologize, unless doing so made for more drama. It did not allow her to acknowledge flaws, unless that was a better sell. It covered her with the cloak of a veteran, one who knew where all the skeletons were buried, which got her the desired effect of being even more feared.
It was logic built on being brutally honest. Which, strangely, was not built at all on brutalist fact.
This rather worked for her as a manager. As she put herself at centerstage, daring all comers, she spared her beautiful and handsome stars the blows.
Not that any of this was duty or sacrifice for Lolit. The pattern of her feuds actually suggested she liked stirring up—even plotting—disturbance and shock.
If she were on the offensive, she kept firing. If she were on the receiving end, she did it the gangmoll's way: if they pull out a knife, you pull out a gun; if they send one of yours to the hospital, you send one of theirs to the morgue. (Untouchables, tough advice of Sean Connery to Kevin Costner)
Again, It worked. Feuds landed her and her clients in the headlines. And since the name of the game was relevance, this was a win, it got them talked about.
Take her October 20, 2022 IG post. She was then in the middle of a battle with fellow talent managers, and others were chiming in. She taunted them (published as is): "Hindi nila matanggap na sa edad ko na mag 76 na, relevant parin at may apektado parin sa mga sinasabi. Talaga siguro ganuon kalakas ang IG ko para ang mga naiinggit gusto na ihinto ko na."
Apparently, her stunning logic allowed for chest beating.
There were times when Lolit's scheming, taken too far, ended in unintended results.
Take the case of her long-time client Mark Herras, first male winner of StarStruck, the GMA-7 talent search that debuted in 2003.
Eighteen years after, in July 2021, the news broke—via Lolit's own online show, Take It! Take it! Me Ganon?, co-hosted with Mr. Fu—saying Mark was so down and out, he had to borrow money from Lolit. A paltry amount, it's said, which made the boy's desperation loom larger. It turned out that Mark had indeed borrowed money from Lolit. But this was long ago and far away! Only, Lolit had repurposed it as a present-day loan to get Mark talked about and, from there, possibly wangle a TV project. Only, too, Lolit never warned Mark.
Discovering this, Mark wasn't really shocked, he knew his Nay Lolit was completely capable of something like this, but, by then a married man, Mark became embarrassed for his wife. Lolit's gimmick became an issue between them, and that same year, client and manager parted ways. (Ogie Diaz Interviews, April 2024)
And so it went. Over four decades, Lolit's was the name many celebrities feared and followed. She was the mouthpiece they tried to sign up, with cash, gifts, flattery, or all of the above, for such was the reputation Lolit had created for herself—fierce protector and rampaging manager, attack dog and mother lion with cubs—that many stars believed only under her wing would they be truly protected.
It didn't help that the entertainment industry was one where everything—the feasting, the fellowship, the funding—could turn dark in the minute it took to smile and turn your back, and turn seemingly without rhyme, reason, warning.
In this very volatile industry, Lolit Solis writ herself large.
Read: Lolit Solis, talent manager and showbiz columnist, dies at 78
MOTHERHOOD, MARRIAGE, AND THE MAKING OF MANAY LOLIT
Born May 20, 1947, in Sampaloc, Manila, Lolita Asistin Solis grew up poor. Her parents and their large brood lived in a squatter's area—an informal settlers' area, in today's language—in a cramped aksesorya on Lardizabal Street. (The Philippine Star, 2011)
Her father, Jose Solis, was a jeepney driver who plied the Pantranco route. Lolit said that even when she had become a showbiz reporter, he still worked as jeepney driver because her father was the kind who needed to be doing something. Her mother, Irene Asistin, Lolit described as a housewife who was good and "competent." (Aster Amoyo Interview, 2022)
Those gritty early years, it is safe to say, shaped the scrappy, street smart, and spirited survivor she would become.
Even as a child, she revealed, she was treated like a maverick.
"Kahit na noong bata pa ako, sa elementary pa lang, lagi na akong parang iba dun sa mga ibang bata. Pasaway," she said in the same Aster Amoyo interview. "Naalala ko tuloy noong bata pa ako, na laging ako yung, mga kalaro ko, ‘Hindi ka namin kasali dito.’"
Venturing a reason why, she mused: "Ever since siguro, kahit konting galaw ko lang, may nasasaktan ako ba."
Her circumstances were dire. As a young mother, Lolit once stared at an empty dinner table during Christmas, wondering how to feed two young daughters.
A 2011 Philippine Star profile, titled “She is Many Things to Many People,” talked about the collapse of her marriage to engineer-architect Angelito "Angie" Pasamonte, whom she met at a journalism seminar in college.
It was said that, even then, she exhibited signs of the restlessness—some say, recklessness—that would attach itself to her for most of her life. Her “kiti-kiti” streak, a movie reporter-friend put it benignly.
Domestic life left her dissatisfied. Boredom, bills, and the bane of two children going hungry were the final push. She left Pampanga, where she and Angie had gone to live, dropped the marriage, and, her two daughters in tow, returned to Sampaloc, the only other home she had known. She never looked back.
Angie lives in the West Coast in America today. Beyond that, not much more is known about the man she married, or any man that came after, because, as intrusive and aggressive as Lolit was in her columns, in her own private life, she was extremely guarded, even downright secretive.
She was vigilant, for instance, about keeping her two worlds apart, confirms devoted friend Gorgy Rula. The divide—between the world of her blood relatives and the world of her showbiz relations—she kept unmentioned and unbridgeable.
It would take Lolit's wake for one family secret to leak.
Eldest daughter Sneezy (Angel Lizza McDonald, 53) told mourners at the chapel that she was personally very grateful for stories about her mother because they had not known her at all. A warm woman, full of hugs, Sneezy also said that she was glad to know so many people saw their mother as a mother. Because, she admitted calmly, she and sister Sloopy (Michael Angela Pasamonte, 52) never saw that side. They only saw the side that was strong, always busy working, hard-pressed to earn big, because their mother also had to be their father for any of them to survive.
Indeed, Lolit plunged into her job as writer. It was her lifeline to stability. It was the portent of things to come. With the writing, there would be no more staring at an empty table at Christmas. The opposite would start happening: her table would groan with specialty dishes and rare desserts, fresh fruits and beribboned gifts, courtesy of showbiz.
But, Lolit was still a long ways from there. She was still working as a police-beat reporter, famously showing up for raids of prostitution dens in her micro-miniskirts.
"Day, tuwing may ni-re-raid kaming prostitution house, ako ang unang hinuhuli ng mga pulis," she told Rolling Stone Philippines, May 2025, "kasi nga naka-micro mini ako, kalandian ko!"
When crime assignments became scarce, she submitted articles to comics mags, cajoling editors into printing her stories, sometimes in exchange for movie passes, until one day they discovered that, in fact, the lady could write. (Pablo Tariman, The Philippine Star, 2011)
It was Douglas Quijano, aka Tito Dougs, who handled entertainment for The Philippine Star, who first pulled her into showbiz writing. It was also Tito Dougs who became one of Lolit's most steadfast allies, standing with her through every unbelievable scam and squabble she dug herself into. When he died in June 2009, his tribute from Lolit ended with: "Itong number na ito, hinding-hindi ko aalisin sa telepono ko." She then held up her cellphone to the crowd with the number of old friend Douglas in it, and her voice cracked.
But first, showbiz—in effect, the world—would open up to her.
Her first celebrity story prompted her mother, who was not impressed with her earlier crime stories, to buy several newspaper copies to give away to neighbors. She wanted them all to see her daughter's little byline. (Rolling Stone Philippines May 2025)
From there, the byline just got bigger.
A showbiz reporter was born. Soon, she became a columnist. Then, with Douglas, she entered the inner sanctum of Lily Monteverde, aka Mother, matriarch of Regal Films, the biggest movie production company of the '80s and '90s and some of the 2000s. And alongside this, again with Douglas, she became a talent manager, rising to become one of the most powerful in the country, up until the big networks broke into talent management and broke the independents.
By the time she moved into her concrete Fairview bungalow—where her pride and joy, says friend Gorgy, was the langka tree that bore neverending fruit, and which, unlike all other plants she handled, did not die—she had become one of the most formidable names in Philippine show business.
Read: Lolit Solis, may mga hanash sa resulta ng 2025 elections
LOLIT AS COLUMNIST AND MEDIA PERSONALITY
Lolit's ascent to the top of entertainment media was fueled, it might be said, by the synergy of her sharp pen and insider info, targeted networking and willingness to be outrageous.
Her long-running column, "Take It, Per Minute," for Pilipino Star Ngayon, plus her past work with Tempo, sister publication of the Manila Bulletin, became must reading for anyone in showbiz.
As her signature style, she released unfiltered opinion that nearly always sideswiped stars not in her stable and made saints out of those in it. Or, when it suited the imaging, made bad boys or naughty girls out of her wards. She ran stories that were less news and more promo, less fact and more hype, less data and more agenda. She also didn't mind tricking readers and, if caught, simply summoned the kind of twisted, if stunning, logic she alone could pull off.
Her outrageousness was not madness, mind. She had method. She had deliberation. She was about staying relevant.
All the way to very recent years, when her dialysis had gone up to thrice a week, she was said to still be dictating feeds, sending captions via SMS to editor and confidante Salve Asis.
"Salve," the Instagram posts of Nay Lolit often began, as her thoughts—ranging from forgiving people to pining for what's gone to savaging somebody—were still being published under her byline long after her voice had weakened. (Rolling Stone PH, 2025)
Nay Lolit, after all, had a way of getting loyalty. She knew how to give and take. She gave concern and advice, rewards and bonuses. Her eyes, when she was on your side, smiled for you and charmed you; her mouth, when she was in happy company, blurted out showbiz secrets, even at her stars' expense, and made you feel like an insider; her body language, when she liked you, drew you into her web like a long-lost friend.
She knew how to flatter.
Even her self-pronounced idiosyncracies helped.
For instance, she truly enjoyed hosting reporters going on their very first trip abroad. Explaining it, she said to me not just once: "Itong ganito, maaalala nila. Kasi ako, I remember yung unang trip ko at kung sino nagbigay sa akin nun. Di mo talaga malilimutan."
One time, she revived the story of her own would-be first trip to HongKong. She and other showbiz denizens were all agog. Mother Lily was footing the bill! But Mother, herself a grandiose character, suddenly caught some story, unverified, about a starlet making a play for Father Remy, her husband. Right there, Mother cancelled the entire trip; they were all turning right back. Lolit couldn't take it—she'd already told all her neighbors she was flying to HK! Her solution? She had herself photographed by the steps of the plane! This was proof. Of course, she had to be scarce from the neighborhood a few days; she was supposed to be abroad, right?
Lolit was also not beyond living it up by tapping moneyed friends, like Dra. Vicki Belo. Once she wanted to vacation in Paris, where the beauty doctor happens to have two apartments. Thing is, Lolit always brought an entourage. Reporter-friends, who could not be called personal friends of the doctor, had the run of the doctor's ritzy apartment at a premier section of Paris. Lolit was feeling entitled, one supposed. Long ago, she had played crisis PR to Hayden Kho, who would go on to marry Vicki, when Hayden got embroiled in a nasty video that leaked and made him the country's most-hated man.
Startalk and the Rise of the Triumvirate
In 1995, Lolit joined GMA-7’s newest foray into entertainment: a weekend talk show that the network called Startalk.
She co-hosted it with Kris Aquino, then dubbed the “Queen of All Media,” and Boy Abunda, who would later earn the title “King of Talk.”
"Hindi ako marunong mag-host," Lolit admitted to the show's director.
But Al Quinn, a TV director who had successfully helmed entertainment programs, countered, "Ma-e-excite na ang mga tao dahil ikaw, bigla-bigla, kung anu-anong lumalabas sa bunganga mo."
Startalk became all things expected of a show that treated showbiz like bloodsport—and it worked!
Lolit brought the insider juice, Kris brought the sosyal-kikay appeal, and Boy brought the sobriety. Together, they made Startalk the ultimate showbiz program of its time.
Over 20 years, the show was a jumping place for ratings, advertising, and everything showbiz.
Lolit stayed in Startalk until its final episode in 2015, outlasting all her big-name co-hosts.
Read: Lolit Solis reflects on biggest takeaway from 1994 MFF scam
BREATHING IN CONTROVERSY
No story of Lolit Solis is complete without the 1994 Manila Film Festival scam, the scandal that stuck to her forever.
To the uninitiated, this was when a high-flying, thoroughly self-absorbed Lolit orchestrated the very public and false announcement of festival winners—one that gave the top prize to her top client Gabby Concepcion, and to the young Ruffa Gutierrez who blindly obeyed the manager who was a family friend, over rightful awardees Edu Manzano and Aiko Melendez.
Lolit took the fall.
"Hanggang ending, inamin ko yun. Wala akong idinamay… Wala akong idinamay! Inamin ko, akin lahat-lahat," she told PEP.ph (Philippine Entertainment Portal) in 2022.
Lolit dissected it: "Yun ang consequence, ang magalit sa iyo ang tao. Kaya yung mga nagalit sa akin, hindi ako nagalit."
Then in the kind of twisted, if stunning, logic that marked her years, she went offline and threw in: "Medyo naiirita lang ako sa mga hindi ko kakilalang nagagalit, nagre-react na, ‘Bakit?!’ Yung ganun.
"May ninakaw ba ako sa inyo? E, kasi, wala namang involved na pera. Wala namang ano."
By her logic, she had the right to blow them all off. By her logic, they had no right to question her about a scam she had foisted on them.
"Dapat siguro, ang magalit sa akin nang husto, si Gabby, si Edu, si Aiko," she continued, setting the terms. "Matatanggap ko, di ba, kung alipustain ako.
"Pero yung iba na ano, hindi, di ba? What mattered that time to me, yung reaction ng mga taga-showbiz.
"Kasi, ito ang pamilya ko, e. Kaya yung nagalit sa akin na mga taga-showbiz, I understand."
The scandal made her front-page fodder for months, many times overshadowing national political news.
From political columnist Teddy Benigno comparing her to a “mini-Patton tank” to diners walking out when she entered Bistro Lorenzo, Lolit became persona non grata, verboten, and, if the really incensed had their way, stateless! Tabloids plastered her worst photos, blew them up, zoomed in on blemishes.
She survived.
Not all her friends abandoned her. Even among producers and directors stunned by the scam, many stayed. Within the movie press, many chose to keep their ties with her. It helped that she had long been a citizen of showbiz, and showbiz has always been, whether outsiders can grasp it or not, a tight community, almost like an incestuous, extended family—and it just wasn't done to punish a family member with expulsion.
It would be decades later when Lolit would admit that, inside her, she began harboring thoughts of suicide. It was not easy being disliked by a whole country. Yet when the dust settled, her will to live was not broken. (PEP.ph, 2022)
In the fallout, however, something did break: her once impregnable mother-son relationship with Gabby Concepcion, the handsome boy she had steered to the status of matinee idol, her prized star, her crowning glory.
After 1994, select industry insiders began hearing that Gabby had been in the know from the very beginning. A stunner. The talk must have come from Lolit herself. I know I heard it from her directly, at my house, in our interview in the 2000s for YES!, a magazine I was editor of. She told me that Gabby wanted that trophy for best actor badly, and that she promised him it would be his, no matter what. By her telling, he knew all the time it would happen. But when the scam hit the fan—with the words "Take It! Take It!," one host's instruction to another to secure the envelope announcing the real winners, becoming the word of the year and the next one, too—Gabby publicly denied Lolit.
If Lolit's story were to be believed and you were Catholic, you'd say Gabby did a St. Peter. If you were a follower of the drama, you'd say he'd abandoned her to clean up their conjugal craziness. A craziness, incidentally, that carried the real threat of imprisonment for Lolit.
It never got there. Connections in politics and showbiz were tapped. Public apologies were delivered far and wide. Tears and thank yous flew everywhere. In the end, Lolit was forgiven. The mayor of Manila, Alfredo Lim, a hardnosed Major General when he retired from the Philippine National Police, found himself thawing. Although one female host, a foreigner who had flown out of the country in time, remained wanted by immigration.
In the end, manager and star never got back together. Their relations became cordial, but their bond was broken for good. At Lolit's wake, when Gabby came to pay his respects, everyone knew this was a major moment, and everyone's phone camera started recording. He and Lolit's daughter, Sneezy, gave each other a warm hug.
Talent Manager, Star Builder
In a country that allows press people to be talent managers at the same time—clearly, a contradiction of roles, a conflict of interest, an unholy alliance, if you will—Lolit held sway in both.
Her columns gave her power, talent management gave her clout, and the one boosted the other.
Indeed, she was manager to a powerhouse roster: Gabby Concepcion, Bong Revilla and Lani Mercado, Boyet de Leon and Sandy Andolong, Lorna Tolentino, Amy Austria, Tonton Gutierrez and Glydel Mercado, Gladys Reyes, Pauleen Luna, Benjie Paras, Yasmien Kurdi, Paolo Contis, and more. (Rolling Stone Philippines, 2025)
Publicly, she once said that her strategy involved both protection and gimmickry.
"Kunwari magkaaway," she said of the '80s media rivalry between Gabby Concepcion and William Martinez, manufactured under her and Douglas’s watch. Note: Lolit managed Gabby; Douglas managed William; Lolit and Douglas were tight.
In defense of her many stars, Lolit clashed with critics, burned bridges with fellow managers, and let fly ashtrays, to go by the recall of her fellow writers at The Philippine Star (2011).
To her stars, she really was their "Nay Lolit," mother of all grace and disgrace.
To those who were not her stars, she felt free to be nasty and malicious.
There was a time she wrote a thinly disguised "blind item" alleging a poolside rendezvous between Piolo Pascual and Sam Milby, two showbiz male leads. This time, this pitted her against Johnny "Mr. M" Manahan, the big boss at Star Magic, which managed bonafide star Piolo and co-managed rising star Sam. Lolit published the item in her tabloid column on October 15, 2007; just a month later, November 16, she was slapped with a libel suit.
In the end, in May 2008, the two actors decided they would no longer pursue the case against her. But to get to that point, Lolit had to dig into all the goodwill and history she shared with Mr. M. She worked on it, too. Once, at a chance meeting at an airport, Lolit came careening, shouting out Mr. M's name from all the way, poised to fling her arms around him. They were both battle-weary veterans of showbiz, after all, and Lolit knew when the charm offensive was the only thing left standing between her and prison.
How Lolit wanted to be remembered
Sometimes, there was no undoing the damage. As was the case with Lolit's fight in 2022 with Shirley Kuan, manager of A-list star Bea Alonzo.
Lolit had clearly been playing dirty. From the year before, she had been writing column after column about Bea being an aging star, how her fame was on the down low, and how she had ruined Alden Richards' winning streak in the ratings game because she had been too old for him.
What Lolit was gunning for was an erasure of Bea—a star with certified teleserye hits at the Kapamilya channel and box-office-queen credits many times over—because Bea was now transferring to the Kapuso channel.
Kapuso, as it happened, had its own queen, Marian Rivera. And Lolit, most likely to impress Marian that she could be her great defender, just flat out kept hitting Bea, going as far as saying Bea's last boyfriend ghosted her because she wasn't beautiful or young anymore and his next girlfriend was.
Shirley Kuan, aka SK, let things slide for a long time. She would later explain that Bea had pleaded with her to keep quiet and give Lolit space. The latter's health wasn't good by then, and Bea was said not to want to make things worse. So, SK kept a lid on it, until she didn't.
Going on the offensive, SK gave a raw and point-for-point interview, on video, to PEP, where she called Lolit a "bully," a tag that would stick. No one had taken on Lolit in public this way in modern memory. No one had gone tit-for-tat with Lolit where nothing more promised to be sacred. SK—a respected manager with no known enemies, highly articulate, and volatile when riled—could play Lolit's game.
Things spiralled from there. SK split from the Professional Artist Managers Inc. (PAMI), which she accused of doing nothing. Lolit was expelled from the same organization after she published inside communication, breaching the group's confidentiality agreement.
In October 2022, at the height of Lolit's expulsion, an uncontrite Lolit took to Instagram.
"Ngayon lang nag sink in sa akin iyon pagtawag nila sa akin na bully," Lolit wrote.
Sounding aggrieved, she went on: "I want people to remember me with fondness, with a smile on their face pag nawala na ako. Ayoko ng para akong gun moll na kinatakutan, kinainisan, ikinagalit ng sinuman.
"Gusto ko na naging fair ako sa dealing ko sa mga nakasama ko, na minahal ako ng mga taong malapit sa akin."
Then that stunning and twisted logic she was famous for surfaced again.
Published as is: "Nagtataka naman ako sa mga plastic na nakikisawsaw, na para bang seryoso masyado ang sitwasyon...
"Kunwari nakiki simpatiya pero alam na alam mo na natutuwa dahil feeling nila heto na, talo na si Lolita sa issue, dadapa na iyan...
"At hindi ako BULLY. Ako ang matagal na ninyo sinisira pero hindi kayo nagtagumpay, dahil nandito parin ako. Make my day [fox emoji] #classiclolita"
By her logic, that she conducted her war against Bea in print and radio was her choice to make. By the same logic, the audience that paid to read and listen to her had no business being upset.
And at the end of it—she used the victim card. Really, she?
Read: A Bea Alonzo-Lolit Solis reconciliation? Hopeful, but really?
Manay Lolit and god
In her latter years, illness slowed Lolit down but never fully silenced her.
After her emergency run to the hospital in 2022, she now had to undergo twice-a-week dialysis, which at one point went up to three.
Still, she posted introspective quotes, declared her love for Fr. Tito Caluag's online masses, and made light of donations from fans, joking that she hadn't spent her own money in weeks because her table groaned with food gifts.
Asked what she fervently prayed for now, she answered: "A painless death. Either hindi na ako magising or basta wala lang akong pain na maramdaman.
"Kasi, baka pag masyadong painful ang maramdaman ko, magkaroon pa ako ng tampo kay God, di ba?
"Ayokong magkarun ng ganun. Kasi, God was so good to me. Kaya ang gusto, yun lang. Painless ano lang talaga." (PEP.ph, August 2022)
The Final Call
On Thursday, July 3, 2025, the woman known to generations as “Manay Lolit” passed away at the age of 78, from acute coronary syndrome.
The news was confirmed by her family in an official statement that read:
"Our beloved Manay Lolit Solis has peacefully joined her Creator last July 3, 2025. Manay Lolit leaves behind a loving family and many friends who will always cherish her memory. We remember Manay Lolit as a feisty and staunch loyal supporter, manager and friend. We love you our dearest Manay, you will forever be in our hearts. Rest well now in the loving embrace of our Lord."
The fascinating woman is gone, her far-from-perfect life gone with her.
May she rest in peace.
But, wait, this is only one side of her story. There is a whole other side, the side where showbiz people she steered toward stardom, boosted in times of low, and protected from enemies at the gate gush with their own stories.
Yet another fascinating tale, but one for another day.
Read: Lolit Solis unfazed by mounting health issues: "Nothing to fear na"
RESEARCH AND REPORTS BY FRANCES KARMEL S. BRAVO
ADDITIONAL FACT-CHECKING BY KAREN PAGSOLINGAN-CALIWARA