Nicholas Gerard Culshaw, 1947-2022

This is not in keeping with my usual content, but since my father is the person most responsible for the woman I am today, and for teaching me reverence for the scientific method, I include it here. Without him none of my work would have happened, I would never have had the bravery to look at things from a radically different angle to the usual; so here is the reflection I wrote, read lovingly at his funeral reception by my brother in law David Afelskie.

I will resume regular content moving forward.

In August 2002 my father and I took a drive halfway across the continent. In a way this was one of many. I had spent several summers in my youth on Georgian Bay camping and boating with my father as he did his summer field work; each of these necessitated a drive from Halifax. This one was different, though, and it was to be our last. I was leaving Canada indefinitely as I began my own career in the unlikely location of Dubuque, Iowa.

We packed up my few possessions, and my two precious dogs Kinsey and Angel, into a rental car and departed. One part of this story that is funny is that I needed him with me, not only for emotional support - which he excelled at providing all his life - but because at the time I didn’t actually know how to drive a car. This was just the way he was; he did all the driving without complaint, even driving himself to a hospital in Toledo Ohio after having taken a fall off some sort of cliff and splitting his chin open. (We had stopped to walk the dogs and he saw some kind of rock outcropping and, being my dad, had to climb up and take a look. He was fine.)

So many people have paid tribute to my dad’s kindness, his intelligence, and his delightfully off-center sense of humor. But the qualities I most think of when I think of my dad are his patience, his sense of adventure, and his delight in being challenged. He was always up for an adventure, and he taught me to view the world as an endless source of fascination, possibility, and discovery.

One thing dad and I shared over a lifetime was a love of running. He taught me to excel physically as well as intellectually. At 21 I decided that I absolutely had to run a marathon (my first and my last) on my 22nd birthday and I immediately recruited my dad to train and race with me (and also to drive us to New Hampshire where I was able to find a race on the actual day ). At the time it didn’t occur to me that this was awfully presumptuous and demanding of a daughter to do. That is just the way dad was; he didn’t feel put out or taken advantage of, he simply viewed it as another adventure to take together and a challenge to take on. He also ended up beating me by eight minutes.

I had the absolute honor to be by his side as he faced the ultimate challenge in preparing for death. It was very different to the many challenges he took on in life but he faced it with bravery and a spirit of gentleness that touched me deeply each day as I sat with him holding his hand. Our last full day together was Monday, August 8. That evening as I sat with him, playing music and reminiscing, he gripped my hand with a strength I didn’t know he still had. At one point I needed to get up for a moment but I didn’t because he squeezed my fingers as if to say “please don’t go just yet”. I knew then that this was a moment I would never get back but would always wish to return to.

It is tempting at times like these to turn a person’s life into an object lesson, but dad was so much more than that. Yes, we would be wise to seize the opportunity, to take that chance, to have that adventure; but most important to do it with kindness and humility. I love you dad and I miss you more than I can ever express. May your memory be eternal and may light perpetual shine upon you.