We Love You, Sean

Golden hour, CN Tower, coffee going cold. That's a Recital meeting. The cat approved of you too.

A note from the family

Sean — you joined us in 2022 and became something we didn't quite anticipate: family. Sharp, thoughtful, dependable, and genuinely good to be around. You made the work better and the team warmer, and that's not something that just happens — it's who you are.

You're not disappearing, and we're glad for that. But we know this shift means something, and we wanted you to know it means something to us too. You were valued here. You still are. Always will be.

House Snowdon. The throne stands ready. The volleyball holds court. The bannermen are grinning — because that's what happens when someone earns this kind of send-off.

The sign in the empty chair says everything. "Always welcome back." We mean it.

The one where someone stands up mid-story because it's that good. That energy — that's you.

The meeting ran long. Nobody minded. That's the highest compliment a room full of busy people can give.

The game is paused. The Stoli is poured. That's how you know it's a real goodbye.

The Walrus, March 2026: "We'll Miss You (But We're Happy For You)." The AI insisted it was October 2024. We corrected it. The hugs are real, even if the illustration isn't.

The Walrus: "The Long Goodbye — Celebrating Journeys and Enduring Friendships." Yes, the cat is mandatory.

Sharp Mind. Good Heart. The throne of House Snowdon. The volleyball rests where a sword would be. The ravens approve.