Michael Raupach
My incredible father, Michael Raupach, died peacefully at home on the morning of the 10th February 2015. He was amazing, and I miss him terribly.
My Dad was a phenomenal scientist. He was one of those rare and exceptional people who combined intelligence with thoughtfulness. Since he died there have been many tributes made for him and his work, from his scientific colleagues and friends. My family and I have been very moved by the wonderful things people have said. Dad would have been overwhelmed. Here are some links:
Dad worked for most of his career with the CSIRO, but recently moved to the Australian National University. The ANU wrote this tribute to him.
At The Conversation (where Dad contributed on occasion) there's an excellent article, written by some of his closest CSIRO colleagues. It is titled Mike Raupach, the scientist who tallied the world's carbon budget.
Future Earth has a detailed look at his science.
One of the projects most important to him was the Global Carbon Project, which he co-founded. They wrote a post for him.
I have collected together things that people have said on social media and around the web into this Storify page.
Last but not least, here is his most recent paper.
My Dad was a scientist, but he was also a musician, a dreamer, and an optimist. He was a kind and good soul. For me and my brother and sister, he was the very best father: he was always there, always happy to help, he always gave the best advice, and he loved his family dearly. The following text is what I said at his funeral:
My Dad was an incredible person. He was the smartest, most dignified, most caring, most loving, most brilliant man I have ever known. His advice was readily given, never overbearing, and always spot on. I cannot imagine that I could have been any luckier than to have him as my Dad, and words can’t say how much I love and miss him.
He faced problems practically and with optimism. His science was groundbreaking, but it was combined with an exceptional ability to explain and to bring people along with the message. When the going got tough, I used to wonder how he found the strength to continue with such patience. He never grew tired of working towards the betterment and understanding of the world, and his science contributed in no small way to both these things. I’m very proud of the immense good he did with his life.
You may not know that he was also an amazing musician. He had perfect pitch: in music, but also in life. We have his collection of songs and lyrics to treasure. Through them you can see the empathy that he felt with the world and the people in it. He wrote songs about refugees and their struggle, about environmental tragedies, and about people whose loss he had felt keenly. He wrote about the sheer sparkling magic of the world, of the bush, of rivers and of the sea. He wrote about love. He wrote many songs for Mum. When he was young he faced a difficult choice of whether to pursue science or music as a career. He chose science, but for good measure he wrote a song about the dilemma.
Dad faced his illness with clear eyes. He didn’t kid himself, or us, but he remained optimistic and strong. And he was so brave.
The sea held a powerful pull for my Dad. He was fascinated by its wildness and its power, and soothed by its unknowable depths. Our family has a house on the ocean at Encounter Bay in South Australia, and this was a very special place for Dad. When we were kids, we would go out on the water with him, in a little row boat that his grandfather built by hand. When the weather was just right, his favourite thing was to row around the island that sits in the centre of the bay. Past the adjoining reef, you could feel the powerful swell of the ocean, and the water was a deeper blue. During his treatment, Dad would escape the hospital and its machines and head out in the boat in his mind’s eye. He updated us on his progress. One day he got to cutters bay and across to the jetty. He rounded the reef and hit that soothing swell and deep water. It is here that I imagine him now, rowing strongly beyond the breakers.