Monday, April 1, 2024

In Memoriam: Jorge Quiané-Ruiz

Note: On March 26 during EDBT 2024, we had a memorial event for our colleague Jorge, whom we lost suddenly in May last year. I gave a speech similar to the one below at that event.

 

Jorge joined our research group at ITU in January 2023 as an associate professor together with his wife Zoi, and we had the privilege of having him as a colleague for five months.

I knew Jorge’s brilliance through his work, but I didn’t have a chance to collaborate with him or get to know him as much as many of you did. I don’t have fun stories or memories of a research collaboration to share.

Yet, in the brief time I got to know him, he made a lasting impact on my life personally, and I want to talk about that. What I have is a bit dark, and I practiced this speech many times to make sure I don’t cry but it may happen, so just heads up.

 

Last year, Jorge’s loss wasn’t the only loss I experienced. In a period of four months, I lost a grandmother, an uncle, and an aunt.

The morning my uncle died, I received the news from my dad on the phone. My uncle’s death wasn’t sudden, unlike Jorge’s. He had cancer. I had been waiting for that call for a while. In fact, as soon as I saw my dad calling, I knew what the news was.

I cried a bit after ending the call with my dad. I had a lecture in a couple of hours. I went to work. I was also supposed to have a guest lecture at the Introduction to Database Systems course co-taught by Eleni and Jorge that semester the day after. It was kind of a tradition that I gave a guest lecture on “intro to modern hardware” in that course. But given the death of my uncle I wanted to go to Turkey to be with the family. So, I had to tell Jorge and Eleni that I wouldn’t be able to give the guest lecture anymore. We already had a plan b for this scenario since they knew of my uncle’s situation. In fact, the week before, Jorge one day came to my office and told me that I shouldn’t worry about the lecture given my situation, and we could just play the video of the lecture I had given the year before. I told him let’s keep the video option as backup still.

After I arrived at work that morning, I went to check Jorge’s office. He was there. As I was delivering the news to him, I started crying again. After I calmed down a bit, he said “I don’t know your family, but I feel your pain. Can I give you a hug?”

Death news is hard to react to in any context, but especially in a work environment. We are supposed to be professional and not “too emotional” at least with most of the people we work with if not all. Last year, as I had gone through the losses, I received reactions from colleagues ranging from “OK. Jesus. I will leave you alone then.” to “How can I help?” And I appreciate any gesture or reaction that acknowledges the difficulty of the situation.

Jorge was my first in-person human contact that morning after hearing the news of my uncle. The words and the hug he offered were so simple yet full of empathy and generosity and exactly what I needed to gather the strength to go through the tasks of the day like buy tickets to Istanbul, email people that you won’t be around for some days, go to your lecture … I will always be grateful to him for the support he gave me that morning. I am really sorry that we lost him so young, and I wish I had had him as a colleague way longer.

Yet I still feel lucky and privileged because I have Zoi as a colleague, and I cherish her presence and professional feedback at work. Observing her strength throughout all this has been an inspiration. I look forward to working with her for many more years.


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