Farewell to an Engineer

We met Renato in March 1966, as classmates at the National School of Engineering at Fundão. It was nearly 59 years of companionship.

At the wake of his partner, engineer Mário Aurélio, I believe around 2010, Renato—without warning me, perhaps because I had been the class “valedictorian” at our graduation in 1970—true to his style, handed me the floor to speak, as an engineer, to the engineer who was leaving us.

The surprise and the emotion choked my voice, and I FROZE.

Today, December 6th, 2023, at this seventh-day mass, READING, I intend not to repeat the “blunder” of that day, and at the same time to follow Renato’s orders, which I’m sure he would repeat:

SAY SOMETHING THERE FOR THE ENGINEERS!

Here we go… In truth, we are WORKERS.

Engineer-workers or worker-engineers—but WORKERS!

Since college, we ate in student cafeterias, rode buses, punched the clock, lived modestly, dressed modestly—we did only what was possible.

We had and still have our ideals: to help make the world better by doing PRACTICAL THINGS. Concrete things, with our hands in the dirt—in fields, wires, gears, bricks, cement, soil, and asphalt.

THINGS, sometimes even abstract (like programming, for example), but still practical THINGS.

Without diminishing anyone else’s work, an ENGINEER is someone with higher education who does PRACTICAL THINGS, USEFUL THINGS! Someone who gets their hands and feet dirty whenever necessary. Our battles are every single day.

Only after doing many things does an engineer earn the right to appreciate the arts, to act as a patron, with a clear conscience—for using what they built, what they planted, what they milked, what they saved. What they chose not to spend. Sometimes with harshness, but always with greater goals and for the common good.

We saw Renato “engineering”—producing, creating wealth, acting as a chief worker, making things happen! At times arguing, at times comforting. Tough and generous.

Once, when we had a disagreement, I told him that a colleague had said I was still his friend because I hadn’t yet done business with him. He got even more upset, wanting to know who had said that. With the intervention of his life partner, Dr. Lurdinha, he calmed down—and in less than ten minutes we were both laughing together again.

Renato came from humble beginnings. A very devout Catholic, his rise was deserved, carved out and built step by step. Everyone here is a witness to that.

And I take great pride in the friendship we built since the first year of engineering school.

Today, we say goodbye to Renato in the flesh, celebrating the productive life he knew how to live, leaving with the feeling of duty fulfilled—showing that work builds, opens paths, and rewards. That engineering is a calling, and it is fulfilling for those who embrace it as a mission.

Thank you, Renato, for showing this path to so many people—your descendants, ours, and all those who will hear about you and your journey on this spaceship.

We’ll meet again up there. Start preparing the ground. See you soon.

P.S.: Read at the seventh-day mass of engineer Renato Ribeiro Abreu, in Niterói, RJ.

Miguel Fernández y Fernández, engineer, columnist and essayist, member of the National Academy of Engineering and the Institute of Engineering. Written Dec 1, 2023; revised Sep 2025. 2,835 characters