We forwent social media. We knew that the sites would be overflowing with tributes and condolences from various Filipino expat communities. Ours was only a small sorrow, because it had been decades since we’d seen one of Nora’s films, and we were grieving more for ourselves—our individual vanished youths, during each of which Nora had been a big, big light—than for the deceased performer. Eventually, my mother remarked that seventy-one was far too young to be making an exit from life. She herself was only four years older than Nora had been, and Aunt Fely two years older than my mother. She clutched my hand. But we all understand that Nora had her troubles, she said.