Remembering Dulce: A life so sweet

We in the Senate staff of Atty. Rene Saguisag called her Mrs. S – but that confused some people, because we called Senator Saguisag’s typist Mr. S. So we started calling her DQS, and the moniker stuck. She gave considerable help in setting up our office – the first Senate after 20 years of Martial Law, when people had only either a vague idea, or a blurred memory, of what a Senate was.

She helped us get to know Senator Saguisag, who was not an easy person to get to know. She made herself available to us always, even if it was just to deconstruct the cryptic instructions of our boss. In the process we got to know her very well: she was a good listener, easy to confide in and ask for advice. She was always fair and maintained a balanced view of things; she was slow to judge and always focused on a person’s positive qualities. Without interfering, and even with a full-time job as executive vice president of Mondragon International, she was aware of how things went in our office from day one until June 30, 1992, when we packed up and went our separate ways.

That friendship flourished long after that. We continued having dinners in their residence in Palanan, Makati on Rene’s birthdays and at Christmas, and managed to have occasional dinners’– sometimes with both of them, other times only with Dulce – at Jade Garden, Conway’s Bar, La Cocina de Tita Moning, Lutong Macao. It was a delight to watch them dance in Bahia, and later in Bykes. Their dancing exemplified how they communicated: they were so in tune with each other that the subtlest nuances, the slightest flick of the wrist, an almost imperceptible bend of the neck or tilt of the head, was a message that the other responded to with precision and grace. I will never be able to step into those places again without remembering the times we spent there with Dulce.

But as much as we loved her and will miss her, her family has suffered an even greater loss– to use one of Rene’s favorite phrases, “a double whammy.” If she was our pillar, she was the family’s rock of Gibraltar, an impregnable fortress that protected them from the worst of crises and the least of worries.

She gave total devotion to the man who, by her own account, was never entirely hers, because she had to share him with his constituents when he was a public servant, his clients when he went back to private life, his staff, their colleagues and many friends, their kith and kin.

Once, when Rene was scheduled to go abroad, someone from the Senate staff had to have some papers signed. She arrived in their Palanan residence just as Dulce was packing, and she caught a glimpse of his suitcase. Not only was it neatly packed; each shirt was tucked into the appropriate pair of pants, and around the collar of every shirt was the appropriate necktie. All her husband had to do was to slide into his clothes! Until her final moment, she absorbed all the shocks to protect Rene, the most fitting metaphor for their relationship, as their son Rebo, also a lawyer, pointed out. Not surprisingly, Rene called her “the eighth wonder of the world.” She was that, and more.

Even when she was living through her own personal hell, her first concern was her family. Ten years ago, she learned she had cancer. Months later, after her successful operation, we had a chance to talk about her ordeal. She said that after the initial shock, she sat down and started writing down the names of people to whom she wanted to entrust each member of her family. To me she assigned Lara, who was then beginning to make a name as a writer. “Just to make sure she didn’t get derailed,” she said. I told her that given Lara’s huge potential and talent, that would have been not only an easy job, but a pleasure, and I would have accepted. And then I couldn’t resist asking “To whom did you assign your husband? Hindi yan kaya ng isang tao lang!” She roared with laughter. Vintage Dulce.

I never really knew who she wanted to take care of Rene in her absence, and on that terrible early morning of November 8, as I read the frantic text message from Krip Yuson about the crash that claimed her life, our conversation came back to me. Later, in the emergency room of Makati Medical Center, as I watched Rebo making all the major and minor decisions; and Nonoy, Misha and Caissa keeping vigil by their father’s bedside, somehow I knew that from where she was, Dulce was beaming with pride. Now that she’s finally free from pain, she’s also free from worries, because she did her job so well.

Now that she’s gone ahead of us, the only people we can truly feel sorry for are those who never had the good fortune of knowing her. Instead of grieving, we congratulate Dulce Saguisag, celebrate the completion of a life well-lived, and wish her a smooth journey back to her Maker. Have a good trip, Dulce.