A Tribute to Laurent Pauzé-Dupuis

For the past few weeks I have found myself in a strange state of emotional limbo. I recognize that by any measure, this has been the worst 6 months of my life -- my parents passed away in November and December of last year, and we've just buried one of my best friends -- but when I think it, "worst months of my life" doesn't ring entirely true. In these months I’ve seen more compassion than I had thought existed. But more importantly, I think this is the case because while difficult, these experiences have driven me to reflect on my memories, and these memories leave me anything but unhappy… there are tears, and while they're not tears of joy, they're not tears of pure sadness either. In fact I’ve often been left laughing.
In November, the funeral director complained that my mother's viewing was more like a raucous party than anything else, apparently he'd never heard one louder. She had lived a life to be celebrated. So did my father who died a month later. His funeral was far more relaxed, reflecting his personality, but equally positive and jovial, a recognition of the way in which he touched the lives, and saved the lives (working in addictions) of so many people, largely with his sense of humour.
The experience of mourning Laurent has been no different for me. Many evenings in these past three weeks have been spent with friends who knew him, telling stories and alternating between laughing until our stomachs hurt, and crying these “tears not of sadness” I mentioned earlier. That this has happened is a tribute to the type of person that Laurent was: even the tragedy of his passing can't overshadow the joy that came out of our experiences with him... The shock of what happened, the uncertainty of the weeks that followed, and the anguish I felt taking part in his burial on Saturday… I would go through it all a million times before I would give up having had the chance to know him for the past three years.
I met Laurent in my second year at McGill. We were in the same conference in "Introduction to Comparative Politics. For those of you who don’t know it, it’s one of those massive 700 person first-year lecture courses in Leacock 132. I made an announcement one day on behalf of the model UN club, advertising one of our events. After class, he made a point of tracking me down to grill me about what model UN was and how he could become involved, eager as he always seemed to be when a new and attractive opportunity presented itself. Thus began our acquaintance. Our friendship was sealed when together with Colin Kfouri and two others, we won a bottle of wine for a group project we did for that same class… that we won was largely due to Laurent's inexplicable enthusiasm for mastering the fine art that is SPSS, making gorgeous, if somewhat overwrought, graphs illustrating our analyses of "democratization."
Over the next year and a bit I attended many a dinner party, traveled with him to Washington, and crammed with him for exams over bottles of wine (perhaps not the best choice of beverage).
Last summer we worked together at the Parliament of Canada as guides, and lived together in Ottawa. He wasted no time in criticizing my cooking, my taste in music, my wardrobe, my latest haircut ("mistake!" he proclaimed after looking it over), and how much I spend on groceries ("Luxury item!" he would announce when something was deemed an unnecessary expense) But it was never meant to tear me down, it was just a challenge. He was forcing me to evaluate why it is that I like the things that I like, and why I do the things that I do, ultimately asking me to explain why I am the way I am to him. He was seeking to understand me, and to learn from me and, I think, hoping that I would reciprocate.
He was also a deeply caring friend. Sometimes he would tell me that I worried him, (after I'd stayed out all night and not told him where I was, or after I had described one of my many far fetched, and often not very well thought out, plans for the future). I was always taken aback when he said that… was he my mother? But on a deeper level I was touched by the earnestness with which he said it. He was a diplomat, and could bullshit you with the best of them, but when he was being true, you really felt it. Maybe this is a selfish thing to say but I feel this loss especially for having lost someone who genuinely worried for me.
He was encouraging. Almost two years ago he had just painted his kitchen and hated the new colour as it looked on the wall. I off handedly offered to paint him a mural over top of it, although only half seriously as I hadn't painted in years. He pounced at that, except he was concerned that if it was a mural he would have to leave it behind whenever the day came that he would have to move out. His solution: to produce a slightly lopsided, wall-sized canvas for me. It sat in my room, blank for the longest time. I was intimidated by it. Finally my room-mate and I took the plunge about two months ago… it's still not done, and truth be told, rather hideous, but I sent a digital image of our progress to him over spring break and he wrote me an expansive e-mail back analyzing it. I'll read part of it for you now:
"The movement and forms reflect an intensive reflexivity; bodies semiologically meshing into one another by a seemingly intangible force. While, in surface, distorting attempts of comprehensive meaning of the self, the faces speak to one another all while attaching importance to the outside world, what lies in front of them; their creators, those who give them life, those who take it, and perhaps also the after life. The meaning of life is suggested in the most evasive form; the form which one can only see in the greater depths of the painting. In essence, this painting asks more questions than it answers: how should I live my life and why am I here?"
I really have only the vaguest idea of what that meant, and more than suspect he was making fun of me, but I think that it's key that he saw in the painting the question: "how should I live my life?" A question that terrifies me, but a question that he was always asking himself, that drove him to jump on every opportunity with such enthusiasm, and to always seek only the most honest and meaningful of friendships… I'm honoured that he chose to share one with me.
Laurent, to echo your father… Tu me manque. I miss you.
Your Friend,
Ben