Back in 1991 one of my graduate students, Ma. Theresa Ujano, asked me if I could stand as godfather at her wedding. She was marrying Dr. Dennis Batangan, who I also knew from the days when I was working with community-based health programs.
I can’t be your ninong, I protested, because I’m not old or rich or powerful.
I was, of course, joking. I could not say no because Tess was one of my best students, in and out of the classroom. She was a young faculty member of the University of the Philippines’ Department of Psychology, and both she and Dennis were active in social and political advocacies for change.
So, through the years, I became their Tito (Uncle) Mike. The children arrived: Ani, then Ina, then Ian. I marveled at how Tess balanced family life with teaching, finishing her master’s degree and then her PhD. I served in her advisory panels for both degrees. She was committed to UP, and to the Philippines. She had deliberately chosen to do her graduate work in UP, even if there were opportunities to study abroad. Her siblings all lived in the United States.
I saw her develop, from a junior faculty member to one of the psychology department’s most respected. I involved her in my research projects and again saw how she had developed from a research assistant to a research associate. We coauthored a book on young adult sexuality, the result of a study conducted in Iloilo and Manila.
When I became a college dean, I invited her to become the associate dean for academic affairs. She agreed, on condition that she be allowed to continue working as deputy director of a Center for Women’s Studies. That was no mean task because our college had some 2,000 students, with 22 degree programs. She studied the entire system and initiated all kinds of changes.
Late in 2013 she told me she was having serious health problems. I worried about how inconclusive the medical tests were. Then she went into surgery and a period of waiting. After a year, she felt she had overcome the odds. Although she was on a sabbatical, she began helping out with an NGO. She seemed to be in high spirits, texting recently that Ina had passed the UP entrance exam and was going to do history.
Last Thursday morning I was thinking of dropping in on her with a pack of Veggie Straws. Ever since her surgery she had gone into a strict diet of natural foods. But in the afternoon I got a text with the shocking news that Tess was gone. She was 51.
Like a daughter
It has not been easy, these last few days. Tess was like a daughter, and I’ve always felt it was unfair when parents have to mourn for their children.
I continued to grieve, initially refusing to go the wake because I didn’t want to have to talk to people. But I finally decided to go last Saturday, early in the morning. Consoling her children, and Dennis, consoled me as well.
There were two other visitors that morning, both her dorm mates starting in 1981. They had not seen Tess since college graduation. They had learned of her death from Facebook.
On the eve of Tess’ cremation, I met up with Zen and Leo Quintilla, our research assistants in a project back in the 1990s, who just had to fly in from Iloilo to say goodbye.
That was Tess for you. She had a way of striking up long and lasting friendships. Another of her dorm mates, Prof. Auggie Arcenas, eulogized her as a “Pambansang Ate”—an elder sister to all.
Tess was an “old soul.” It’s an expression used in cultures that believe in reincarnation, based on the idea that someone with so many life skills must have had many previous lives. Even without believing in rebirth, we can say old souls are people who love life, who are always ready to learn from life, and to share those skills.
Although I am Dennis and Tess’ ninong, they taught me many lessons about parenting. I began to parent only in 2004 but had the advantage of learning from Tess, with her many stories about Ani, Ina and Ian, and about selfless mothering. Tess and Dennis didn’t believe in having a yaya (nanny) and I’ve followed her example, even if sometimes I wish I had more pairs of hands and eyes to keep track of my kids.
I remember, too, being surprised the first time Tess attended one of our workshops bringing along Ani. In time I realized how important it was for Dennis and Tess to be with their kids as often as possible. Each summer, each break, they would travel somewhere, everyone together. Tess taught me that even very young children gain something from traveling, even as they each contribute to the joy of family bonding.
There was always something about parenting to learn from Tess, like sharing the kids’ birthday gifts with less fortunate children. Or, as the kids grew older, withdrawing to the background and letting them make the decisions.
Life guide
Tess was always there to encourage, and I mean it in the literal sense of giving courage. I would fret about being so old a parent, and she would assure me that she would help care for my children if something ever happened to me. Some years back I sat down with her, practically doing a living will, leaving instructions of what she had to do for my kids if something happened to me.
Who would have known that Tess would go ahead?
Tess was an old, old soul. I consulted her on hard decisions. When I first accepted the nomination to become a college dean, it was in part because she said she would be around to help. I made her fulfill that promise, to become my associate dean for academic affairs.
Last year I had to make the decision about accepting the nomination for chancellor. She was already ill then and I did not want to bother her, but I said yes in part because I felt she would get better soon, and she would be one of my vice chancellors. When that didn’t happen because of the surgery, I told her: Get well soon because we have some important research projects to do for the university. Her eyes lit up at the prospects of new challenges.
Who would have known?
There are moments when I still feel overwhelmed by her passing, and then I tell myself that Tess is still around.
Good friends, good life guides, are that way. They don’t have to be at our side all the time.
But I still wish Tess had stayed on with us a few more years; 50 years would have been good. But in her short life, Tess has done much more than many others. Tess has taught us we all can be old souls.
* * *
E-mail: mtan@inquirer.com.ph