She passed away 8 hours ago, after a 16-month battle with colon cancer which doctors found a week ago to have spread to her liver.

I don’t wish to remember Cory on her last days when she started to look gaunt and frail. That part only reminds me of my dad whom I lost to cancer 13 years ago. After all these years, that still brings a lump to my throat.

I don’t even wish to remember her as the former president of the Philippines whose administration was riddled with unsuccessful military coup attempts by the same soldiers who helped her gain the presidency.

Her winning the title of TIME Woman of the Year just rests in the far recesses of my brain. Worldwide media showcased her and revealed her entire wardrobe in yellow, and the color isn’t exactly my favorite.

She gave flesh to the meaning of People Power, but I have never really understood the wisdom of the crowds.

I recall Cory Aquino in a different light.

I remember her as the embodiment of a rare occasion when a stereotype not only cracks the mold but also shatters the norm.

Cory stands as the symbol of unity during the time when one country was rendered asunder by the machinations of a 21-year US-backed dictatorship.

When I remember Cory Aquino, I recall Ferdinand Marcos of the Philippines and Augusto Pinochet of Chile, two US-backed dictators who were almost on simultaneous two-decade terroristic regimes.

When I remember Cory, I remember Imelda Marcos whose collection of thousands of pairs of gaudy shoes is legend of the infamous kind. While Imelda forever dripped in diamonds, Cory almost always went without jewelry and make-up. While Imelda’s flashy couture came in shimmering colors, Cory wore only austere black and nondescript yellow.

Cory did not exactly topple Marcos. The Filipino people did. An overwhelming People Power Revolution that vomited Marcos’ power and pelf sent an ample enough message to the US that it was time for it to end its support to Marcos’ puppet government. And so the US decided to whisk away the ailing and aging Marcos on a huge US military helicopter and flew him to Hawaii in the nick of time, lest Marcos’ own countrymen dismember what’s left of his sorry physical self.

Cory, the former housewife whose personal joy consisted mostly of baking and cooking for her brood, was the poster girl of that People Power Revolution back in 1986.

She proved that, yes, an extremely powerful Third World regime backed by the most powerful nation on earth, only seems infallible.

The woman, the icon, the unfailingly prayerful Catholic girl, the housewife ended the bloody reign of an astute dictator who wore impunity on his sleeve, much in the style of Mugabe, al-Bashir, Ceausescu, Chavez, and others.

When I remember Cory, I think of countries such as Zimbabwe, Sudan, Myanmar, and all those other places on earth that are owned by dictators. I secretly wish they have their own Cory.

Because of her I have come to personally realize that democracy is a painful thing.

Because of her, I have come to personally confirm that the female stereotype, in a largely conservative and patriarchal society, can be shattered.

Rest in peace, Tita Cory. You make me proud to be a Filipina.