Over the course of a decade, I watched helplessly from afar as my di-chiak—my uncle, born second to my father—succumbed to an autoimmune disease. From once routine weekend and summer stays at his home, I began to see him less and less, facets of his recognizable self chipped away in between each encounter. When he drew his final breath, I knew that I would attend to various wake duties for an entire week. More than anything, I would be grieving alongside our family, trying to process the fact that I had witnessed a loved one’s death firsthand. And so, that week in November 2023, I sought to file for an excused absence ahead of time.
Unfortunately, DLSU’s excused absence policy for familial death is riddled with ambiguity. Section 8.8.4 of the 2021-2025 Student Handbook states that such absences may or may not be excused upon the discretion of each faculty member a student is currently enrolled under. It also cites the need for “supporting documents,” yet did not define what these are, leaving specification up to the interpretation of each college.
Other resources, like termly Help Desk Announcements, do not provide any more clarification. At the time, the best I could find was a document uploaded by the College of Liberal Arts during Term 2 AY 2022-2023, which listed a guardian’s letter and valid ID as requirements. I complied.
Most professors relayed their condolences. Save for one, who withheld a quiz that made up a significant portion of my grade unless I provided my di-chiak’s death certificate. Given how sensitive such a document is, I offered my dad’s phone number so he could confirm the situation to my professor, but she declined. She insisted still, and this demand struck me as incredibly insensitive. However, fear of failure got the best of me, so I conceded, but with gritted teeth. Frustratedly, I wondered how vulnerability could be met with so much suspicion.
It is difficult to even begin criticizing the University for this sort of inconsiderateness, when the Philippines itself has no standardized law on bereavement leave. At most, House Bill No. 2345, known as the Bereavement Act of 2022, was penned with the intent of alleviating both mental and financial burdens from grieving workers by granting them 10 days of paid leave. But ever since it was put forward, the act has been consigned to an indefinite pending status.
Worse is the fact that some bereft Lasallians have had their requests rejected simply because of the strict interpretation of Section 8.8.4.1, the rule specifying absences may be excused for the death of an “immediate family member,” which is limited to parents and siblings. Grandparents, aunts, and uncles classify as extended family, which was the case with my di-chiak. I learned this when pitching the idea for this column piece to the Executive Editors, one of whom recounted how her college’s associate dean denied her request for this very reason.
This swift, unsympathetic nitpicking discredits the depth of the bonds between those belonging to nontraditional families. In the Philippines, kinship often transcends bloodlines. Shouldn’t our institutions recognize this reality? The fact that who we consider family is not confined to the nuclear mold nor bound by blood.
And when one of our own is lost, the traditions we carry out make the immensity of our sorrow known. The praying of the nine-day novena for the dearly departed and the gathering in remembrance of them on the 40th day post-mortem serve as solemn reminders that grief takes time. Grace to recognize this should be given in our professional spaces—the fact that all a person needs is some time.
A year and a half later, a photo of my di-chiak lifting my toddler self sits atop my desk back home. I am still quietly overcome by memories of him, our jovial force turned frail. The generous spirit who, in his youth, offered shelter to any down-and-out friends to the point that my aunt jokingly compared their Binondo shophouse to a halfway home. He was our family’s fierce defender, confronting all who slighted those he held dear. The week of his passing, he deserved the time to be commemorated from sunrise to sundown.
I know the world does not stop for us in the face of paralyzing pain. But when it comes to these moments of loss we shall all come to experience eventually, it would be good-natured if we did not have to justify or over rationalize the process of grief. DLSU can approach this by revisiting the current excused absence policy due to bereavement; may it be by clarifying what discretions professors hold, which documents are required, and maintaining open communication with mourning students instead of dismissing them for sake of pedantry. As loved ones cross the veil, there is responsibility to be found in caring for the living left behind.
This article was published in The LaSallian‘s June 2025 issue. To read more, visit bit.ly/TLSJune2025.
