RIP Fabien!
Sep. 21st, 2014 02:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blatherskiteI've just returned from the unpleasant task of burying a friend of 20 years, mitigated only slightly by the pleasure of meeting his family for the first time. (Long story why this never happened earlier, and one that doesn't belong here.)
I met Fabien through the Society for Technical Communication shortly after returning to Montreal. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was getting around on two canes, and it was years before I learned that he'd suffered from polio as a child of 2 while his family lived in Tunisia. The second thing I noticed about him, and that remained a constant throughout those 20 years, was that he never let that or anything else get him down for long. The memory I will always have of Fabien is his smile, his deep and resonant voice, and his relentless joie de vie.
Fabien was a writer, translator, and teacher, and this is primarily where we overlapped professionally. His example inspired me to be more out there myself as a teacher and mentor. I might have ended up there on my own, but it wouldn't have happened nearly as fast without our interaction to give me courage.
He was also a keen coin and stamp collector, and I remember his pleasure at the Chinese stamps I contributed to his collection. He also collected fridge magnets from around the planet, and I remember being deeply disappointed at being unable to find one to bring him from India. His son told me he played a mean clarinet, and I wish I'd had a chance to hear him play. I imagine it would have been special.
For several years, we met every month or two for breakfast or lunch, but those opportunities became sparser in the past couple years as his health declined. Post-polio syndrome was hitting him hard, and is what eventually took him from us. In between bouts of symptoms, his wife's declining health used up what little energy and time remained. Yet those times we chatted, he remained cheery, optimistic, and a joy to be with. I'll miss him terribly.
I was honored to be invited to his funeral, described as being only for his family and close friends, and doubly honored that his wife knew me by sight, even though we'd never met. Apparently, I made a good impression on someone whose opinion truly mattered to me, and he shared that impression with his family. That will give me strength in those occasional dark times when I have reason to doubt my worth.
I met Fabien through the Society for Technical Communication shortly after returning to Montreal. The first thing I noticed about him was that he was getting around on two canes, and it was years before I learned that he'd suffered from polio as a child of 2 while his family lived in Tunisia. The second thing I noticed about him, and that remained a constant throughout those 20 years, was that he never let that or anything else get him down for long. The memory I will always have of Fabien is his smile, his deep and resonant voice, and his relentless joie de vie.
Fabien was a writer, translator, and teacher, and this is primarily where we overlapped professionally. His example inspired me to be more out there myself as a teacher and mentor. I might have ended up there on my own, but it wouldn't have happened nearly as fast without our interaction to give me courage.
He was also a keen coin and stamp collector, and I remember his pleasure at the Chinese stamps I contributed to his collection. He also collected fridge magnets from around the planet, and I remember being deeply disappointed at being unable to find one to bring him from India. His son told me he played a mean clarinet, and I wish I'd had a chance to hear him play. I imagine it would have been special.
For several years, we met every month or two for breakfast or lunch, but those opportunities became sparser in the past couple years as his health declined. Post-polio syndrome was hitting him hard, and is what eventually took him from us. In between bouts of symptoms, his wife's declining health used up what little energy and time remained. Yet those times we chatted, he remained cheery, optimistic, and a joy to be with. I'll miss him terribly.
I was honored to be invited to his funeral, described as being only for his family and close friends, and doubly honored that his wife knew me by sight, even though we'd never met. Apparently, I made a good impression on someone whose opinion truly mattered to me, and he shared that impression with his family. That will give me strength in those occasional dark times when I have reason to doubt my worth.