Dr. Frank Albert Dick

Dr. Frank Albert Dick passed away peacefully at home on January 16, 2026 at the age of 69.

Frank leaves his life partner of 24 years Abigail Tuckerman-Slayton (Abi), his three daughters Rachel Ridgway, Thera Slayton, and Aliya Slayton, and his granddaughter Meridian Ridgway. He is also survived by his siblings Andrew, David, Benjamin, Charles, John Jeffrey, and Tracy, and by his stepmother Linda. Frank was preceded in death by his parents Edward Chilton Dick and Jane Ruth Martinez Dick.

Born November 26, 1956 as the second eldest of his siblings, Frank spent his early years in Texas and his teen years in Northport, Washington. In high school, he competed as a middle-distance runner and reached the Junior Olympic trials. He discovered a love of physics and astronomy early; teenage Frank hung a giant pendulum from his bedroom ceiling and built a telescope from scratch, toiling for months to sand the lens to precise requirements.

After a storied era working in factories and sewers, Frank earned his BS in electrical engineering from the University of Texas at San Antonio in 1984. He made his first career as a telecommunications engineer at Southwest Research Institute. He performed in community theater, continued to race in track-and-field, and became an avid windsurfer. He competed in chess tournaments around North America, attaining a rank of Expert and winning the Amateur section of the 1995 Texas State Championship in a 6-0 sweep. In 1996, Frank moved to Massachusetts for a position at NMS Communications.

Frank ultimately left engineering to pursue his true passion, particle physics—the physics of the very large and the very small. He earned his PhD from Worcester Polytechnic Institute in 2007, and his dissertation findings in field theory were used by NASA to improve the safety of space travel. Dr. Dick remained at WPI as a beloved teaching professor until his retirement in 2020, founding a minor in astrophysics and teaching courses with nicknames like “100 Ways to Die in Space.” Studying the physical universe deepened his belief that God lies beyond the “veil” that separates that which is accessible through scientific inquiry from that which is unknowable.

Frank was an observer, a thinker, and a doer. He took great joy in wildlife, the smell of a pine forest, and the way the sun’s rays at just the right moment made the trees glow red. He had a deep love of the night sky and shared views of the cosmos with his loved ones through telescopes. He equally enjoyed the strenuous process of mountaineering and the view from the summit, bending over with his head upside down for the ideal perspective. He delighted in replaying his competitive chess games and considering every possible alternative move. He was always measuring, calculating, quantifying; nothing could stop him from pondering the mechanics of ordinary things and re-engineering everyday objects and tasks. He maintained a five-minute mile even in his old age. He challenged himself with ambitious home improvement projects that were almost always completed eventually.

Often absorbed by his own thoughts, Frank was an introvert through and through. But to his family, Frank was also a teller of elaborate and corny jokes; the only one gentle enough to trim the dog’s hair and nails; a Legend of Zelda partner; a year-round hot chocolate devotee; deft fingers plucking Spanish guitar and a tenor voice crooning songs of struggle rewritten with happy endings; a fierce protector. He will be deeply missed.

Memorial donations can be made to WPI financial aid and scholarships.