The man who wanted to leave the world a little more beautiful

“Joost, how many stones—rocks—pebbles have you moved? I’m not going to ask anyone today to count them. I’m not going to ask anyone to carry all that weight. Instead, I think it’s right that today we take a moment to look at the world—and how you, Joost, have changed it.

It was your mission to help local entrepreneurs and organizations make a difference. And how you inspired us in that. Suddenly, we were all passionately talking about windows and doors, spray cork, social workshops, or how to automate industrial installations.

Every morning, you would call us to share your latest groundbreaking ideas for a client. If we heard someone whistling loudly and energetically, we knew you were on your way. And if it rained heavily that day, you were even happier. “There’s no such thing as bad weather—only bad clothing.”

Joost, you were someone who saw things before others did. A pioneer, a pathfinder who immediately recognized potential. And you saw that in people too. You gave opportunities and helped us discover ourselves.

Small talk wasn’t your thing. When you joined us for lunch, conversations turned to world politics, climate change, or what you had experienced in North Korea. “Yes, yes, the world,” you would conclude.

You loved debating. If everyone agreed, you disagreed. Or the other way around. Purely for the love of the exchange. A master of rhetoric—even when it led nowhere. Perhaps that’s how you kept your mind sharp.

You also loved Brussels. Job interviews took place at Monk, with an Orval in hand. But you were ready to plant your flag across the world. Vancouver, Rotterdam… your flag is now flying there. And several fellow entrepreneurs crossed borders today to be here with you.

Joost, you sought adventure. Following the beaten path was never for you—and you can take that literally. During a conference in the US, you took two colleagues on a road trip. Far from the highway and well off the beaten track. They ended up in Britney Spears’ hometown, or in a bar full of outlaws eager to show their weapon collections. My colleagues were nervous—but you, Joost, you were enjoying every second.

At work, you always gave us that extra push. To try something new, to grow, to step outside our comfort zone. When we panicked, you reassured us. When the house was on fire, you could put things into perspective like no one else.

“But it’s really not that big of a deal.”

Don’t get us wrong—you could make us sweat too. Try keeping up with the high-speed train that you were. You rushed ahead at 200 kilometers per hour.

On the memorial card you received, you see Joost in his canoe. We took that picture during a team-building trip in Sweden. A colleague wrote about it: you have managers, you have CEOs—and then you have Joost Renson. I had only been at PAF for a month. My new boss was philosophizing from his canoe during the day, walking around with Canadian dreams, and in the evening—during a board game—his energy was unstoppable. He jumped on tables and chairs, doing everything to win. He took a young, eager team along in his thinking and doing, with an Orval in hand. Leadership can look like that too.

Joost. Being gone doesn’t suit you. We find comfort in the thought that you lived for two lifetimes. But this hurts. And you will echo within us for a long time.

With every decision: “What would Joost do?”
With every step we take in your Forest Factory: “How much Joost loved this place.”
With every drop of rain: “There’s no such thing as bad weather.”

We have gathered many more anecdotes—for Margo, for Oscar, for Charlie, for your loved ones. To remember you. As the eternal optimist, with a passion for passion. As a driven entrepreneur. As the man who wanted to leave the world a little more beautiful.

Farewell, Joost. We will miss you.”

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