The Puzzle of Missing Pieces (for Papa Sid)

Sidney Dixon loved puzzles. He would spend hours putting them together and revealing the picture at the end. 

Is this a metaphor about life? 

Is each life a piece of the puzzle? 

Are our brains just desperately seeking patterns in the void?

Or, was Sid trying to understand the puzzle of his own existence. Were puzzles a simple metaphor for a life misunderstood and misplaced and misspent? 

Sid was a great Papa, and a decent Dad and an uneven Husband and Lover, and a Great and misunderstood Son. Sid was an unending project and a possibility of greatness and sadness and the unexpected joy and hatred of the past wrapped in a sensitive layer of smiles and smirks and grumpy displays of anger. 

Sid was a puzzle. We would spend hours putting him together and reveal stories at the end. 

Is this an analogy of life? 

Is each memory a suggestion of what the puzzle should be? 

Are our brains tricking us into seeking calm in the chaos and entropy of the past? 

Or, was Sidney always a child seeking his own comfort and love. Were puzzles simply a metaphor for love misunderstood and misplaced and misspent? 

Sid was a great Papa, and a very good Father-in-Law, and an exceptional neighbour. Sid wasn't a finished project, but he had realized the importance of joy and acceptance and the unconditional love of his family. 

Sid is a puzzle - hours together didn't reveal the end of his story. 

This is life. 

Each remembrance is a suggestion of what we wanted things to be?

Our brains are constructing the puzzles to our past?

I think Sid was always seeking the centre of his story. But the corners of his puzzle were too vague. He wanted to find the centre of a world scattered and chaotic. And when it finally came he was too proud to be a perfect husband, too old and scared to be a perfect Dad, and just scarred enough to be a perfect Papa. 

We miss you Sidney. You are always the empty chair at our feasts, the empty smile in our warm hearts and the multi-sided missing piece of love we all cherish and cling to forever. 

Your piece has faded from the picture, but our lives only make sense and our futures are only possible because of the place you will always hold in the puzzle of our lives. 

Thank you Richard

I'd normally write this when someone has died, and I can hide from feelings in the moment when the focus shines on others than me, but Richard deserves his flowers now. 

I was afraid this was coming, but hoped Richard was recovering and would be back in the department as soon as he was able. Obviously, there are no magic words to make this okay and make us feel better about losing a colleague and, too soon I fear, a friend. And, I hope I am wrong. I hope Richard will recover and be back to challenge the status quo again. 

I don't know Richard well, but I think of him often. 

There are people you meet and interact with thousands of times and they quickly fade into the background of a thousand other interactions. And there are those you meet a handful of times and you hold each of those meetings close and reflect upon them fondly and often. 

Richards is definitely the latter for me. He always seems solid, stable, certain, passionate and deep. There isn't the wasted energy to force a connection or contrive a sense of belonging. He knows who he is, and he is comfortable in that space. He made me feel comfortable too - and I'm rarely that comfortable around people, especially people I don't know that well. To borrow a cliche - "Still waters run deep". 

All I can I say is: "Fuck". 

I think everyone in the department is of an age that we've stared down the ending of this book - either personally or with loved ones. I think we would all want to know we mattered to the ones who love us and our life's work mattered as well. 

Richard Fredericks' deserves his flowers. He deserves more, but I can't acquire those things. Richard, right now and forever, will be someone I hold close to my memories of VIU. Despite our few interactions he feels like a cornerstone. He is someone who could have offered so much more, but life and circumstance curtailed his gifts. I think a lot of us feel that. We would like to focus more on the work and the students, but our lives and circumstances scatter our demands. 

But Richard, like so many of us, still gave as much as he could. He gave all he could without bending or breaking. I know, right now, there is a student who is influenced in their ways of being, their thoughts and their actions because of Richard. 

Richard deserves his flowers now. 

Thank you.  

And, Fucking fuck. 

Thanks for sharing yourself and your gifts, Richard.