Adieu, Mr. Fitzpatrick

Mrs. Fitzpatrick, , ,

Readers, I have some sad news. My husband, the oft-mentioned Mr. Fitzpatrick, was killed about 10 days ago in a bicycle accident. Those of you who knew him in person know what a true gentleman he was: brilliant, caring, incredibly generous, and invariably kind. He was kinda funny, too. Those of you who didn’t know him may not realize how much influence he’s had on Austenacious: he took the photos for our blog header, including the Halloween Jane-clone-fight, which was entirely his own idea, and he took many of the photos I use to illustrate our posts. And, of course, he was the source of much knowledge on swordfighting, dueling, and other manly topics. Hell, we might not have a blog if it wasn’t for his help getting us started on the technical end. He was so happy and proud of me, of all of us, for pursuing our vision for Austenacious.

To please me, Mr. Sci-Fi/Non-Fiction Fitzpatrick read Pride and Prejudice about two years ago. And of course he loved it. He appreciated Jane’s precision of language and thought, her keen eye for human foibles, and her subtly wicked wit. He often read lines to me that he thought were especially funny—and usually these were lines that I had never noticed, that I had taken for granted. He was distressed when a male friend saw the Keira Knightley movie and didn’t realize the story was supposed to be funny. I loved seeing the book through his eyes. I wanted him to do a post for you all, but he was waiting until he read a new Jane Austen book.

I’ve been trying to think which Jane Austen character was the closest match for Mr. Fitzpatrick, but she never wrote about anyone like him. He worked to make the world a better place, for ex-drug addicts, for poor children, and even for death row inmates.  He was a tinkerer, a maker of all sorts of devices to make my life smoother or more fun. He was an explorer of secret places and secret societies, of ideas of all kinds. And he wanted to go to the stars.

I really wish she had met him.

Goodbye, my love.

Erik Fitzpatrick, 1975–2010.

Photo credit: ©2001 by Heather Dever. All rights reserved.
Adieu, Mr. Fitzpatrick

27 thoughts on “Adieu, Mr. Fitzpatrick”

  1. Tami says:

    Thank you for this beautiful post, Heather. I had no idea that he set up the blog and that he read Jane Austen as well.

    I loved Erik. He was one of the most giving, thoughtful intelligent, and open-minded people I knew. He was also a great listener. It’s hard for me to believe he’s gone.I miss him. I was so blessed to have him as a friend and I am blessed to be friends with you, Heather. His legacy will never be forgotten and all his friends and family will remember him so fondly.

    *hugs*

    Like

  4. Heather busch says:

    I found this blog no doubt from someone on fb and I decided to read it. Through your words in this one post I can feel who your husband was and what you must have felt together. My deepest coldolences to you and your family during this time.

    Like

  5. Maggie says:

    I am so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. My condolences to you, your family, and Erik’s family.

    Like

  6. Hannah says:

    Mrs. Fitzpatrick, I am so sorry for your loss. From your post, I can see that Mr. Fitzpatrick was a great man, and that he was very much loved. I will pray that peace will come to you and all his family during this time.

    Like

  7. I am so, so sorry to read this news. I never knew him but your words (and his actions) illustrate the wonderful person he was. You and your family will be in my thoughts.

    Like

  8. Elizabeth says:

    What a beautiful tribute to Erik. Thank you, Heather, for sharing this with us. My thoughts are with you.

    Like

  9. Bobbie says:

    He was all those things and the best son a person could have. Thank you Heather for capturing him perfectly

    Like

  10. Cheryl says:

    Dear Mrs. Fitzpatrick, I was so sorry to hear about your husband. I hope you can feel all of the warm thoughts so many people are sending your way. I hope that knowledge will help you through this difficult time. My deepest condolences to you and Mr. Fitzpatrick’s family.

    Like

  11. Grace says:

    I’m so sorry for your loss. We are all indebted to Mr. Fitzpatrick for his influence on you and the Austenacious blog. My thoughts are with you and your family.

    Like

  12. Ms Soechting says:

    My sincere condolences to you and your family Mrs. Fitzpatrick. My thoughts and prayer go out to you. He sounds like a very special person and your post is a wonderful tribute to him.

    Like

  13. James Stroosma says:

    From an old elementary school friend–(insert Klingon Death Howl Here) His story will be shared with all who will listen. And thanks to you for putting up with one of us GATE geeks.

    Like

  20. Stevie says:

    I only just discovered this blog, but I am so very sorry for your loss. He sounds like a wonderful guy. Peace to you and to his immortal soul.

    Like

  21. What a great tribute to Mr. Fitzpatrick. Austenacious is here because of his kindness and love. My thoughts and prayers to you and your family, Best, LA

    Like

  22. Mr. West says:

    Mrs. Fitzpatrick, thank you for sharing this, and for repeating it again today.

    These last several weeks, I have been reflecting upon my friendship with Mr. Fitzpatrick, and remembering our interactions and conversations, and the things which I said to him and which he said to me, and I have been reflecting: aside from the basic similarity of the paths which we walked alongside one another, and the astonishing coincidence of our pasts, what was it that caused us to be friends? What was it in him that I was attracted to, and what was it in me that he was attracted to?

    I cannot speak to the latter question, but as to the former, something you said in these paragraphs has joined together with something I overheard this afternoon and something I was reading the last time I went to the gym, and together they have helped form an answer.

    I overheard this afternoon someone – I know not who – say of Mr. Fitzpatrick that he liked people. This was, I think, clearly and unquestionably true.

    But many who like people are blind to the weakness of people, to their foibles and failures, to the rich vein of contradiction and trouble and hurt which make us real individuals rather than demi-gods at play. In the time I knew him, Mr. Fitzpatrick did not do that. He appreciated Jane’s keen eye for human foibles because he shared it. And, amazingly, he continued to love people even so.

    I’m reading a book on the history of the early Catholic church. In the early – well, not so early perhaps, but early from our perspective – in the early days of the evolution of what became the Catholic church, there were many disputes over quite silly theological points. But one deep and important dispute was the dispute between those who saw the flaws in human nature and yet believed in the perfectibility of the soul (those who, in other words, had such a generosity of spirit that they saw the darkest side of humanity and yet continued to love and cherish humans and to believe them capable of being better than they were), and those who saw the flaws in humanity and concluded that we were base animals unworthy of the love of God, who believed we should be punished for our wickedness and that only through such punishment could we find peace. It was, in essence, a debate between those who loved man despite his flaws and those who hated man because of his flaws.

    Mr. Fitzpatrick loved people. He saw them for who they were and loved them. He was not a saint; he did not do this *all of the time*; part of my last conversation with him focused on some new amusing and disturbing fact he had learned about a professor whom our entire class had loathed, and against whom he bore something of a personal grudge. But, more than almost any man I knew, he loved people and saw the good in them even when everyone else did not.

    I loved that about him.

    I will miss him.

    And I hope that I can carry that flame and be as good at it as he was.

    Like

  23. I am so very, very sorry to hear of your loss. To lose someone you love so very deeply must be heart wrenching. Thank you for sharing your memories. I did not know Mr. Fitzpatrick, but I wish I had met him.

    Like

Comments are closed.