Mark
became my cousin when my Aunt Sue married his father, my new Uncle John in 1971
(We also got Jonathan and Laurel in the deal too. Stevie came later. He was not part of the deal, but we were
stuck with him anyway). He was one year
older than me and he drove me nuts. And in all fairness, I drove him nuts
too. We enjoyed annoying one another –
it was who we were. Don’t get me wrong,
we got along fine—we just liked to pick!
And I never needed him more than I did when I was diagnosed. I needed to
talk to him, to get his thoughts, and for him to tell me how to do it. But I couldn’t. He died of lymphoma Palm Sunday, April 13,
2003 at the age of 39.
While
he was not physically here to talk to, he left me with enough to work with and
I always knew he was there. Back when he
was sick, his wife Debi would updated everyone with a newsletter called Pure
Joy—based on James 1: 2-4 which is
“Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials
of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith produces perseverance.
Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not
lacking anything.” It became one of my
favorite verses and one I have always fallen back to.
There are so many memories – all the Christmas mornings
spent up in Owego, skating on Brick Pond, that silly Sun Fish on the lake,
going through those “tunnels” from Little Laurel Lake to Big Laurel Lake,
sledding onto the lake—my back still hurts just thinking about that one—the camping
trip out west and so on and so on. There were happy times, there were sad
times, but we were family and we go through it.
One of my favorite memories is not a fun one- but it meant so much to me—even
back then. I was at the lake house with
Laurel when Dad died. Without telling
us, someone came to pick us up and take us back to the Owego house, where Aunt
Sue and Uncle John told us about Dad.
However, I knew before they told us—only because Mark had given me a hug
when we walked into the house. He was 13
and I was 12 and trust me, there had to be a reason for him to hug me. But it calmed me.
When Mark was
diagnosed, I was not too worried. I was too caught up in my own little world to
worry about it. I just prayed and
assumed God would let him live—after all, he was young and had 4 young
children. Then it got worse and the realization
we would lose him became clear. And through
it all, he kept his faith and he smiled—a smile that lit everything up (and all
of those who knew him are smiling right now—deny it Marti!). I never fully understood until I got cancer—then
I got it. There were many days I had questions
for him and needed his guidance—and honestly, all I had to do was think back as
to how he handled it and I had my answers.
And it always went back to faith and humor—something I could relate to. When I lost my hair—I had a vision of Mark
and Dad side by side laughing that I definitely was not up to their bald
standards. At least I had the wigs—they had
nothing!
As I said before, Mark died on Palm Sunday—so fitting –
and all I could think of was he was in heaven for Holy Week and he would be
celebrating the Last Supper too. From
that day forward, I have never, ever been able to take communion without
thinking about Mark. Sometimes I smile,
sometimes I tear up, but I always, always think of him and again, I am always overcome
with this calmness.
Mark would be proud of Debi and the kids. He would have loved to see his nieces and
nephews and he would have loved to have just been here. One of the last times I saw him, he was
reading a Vince Flynn book—when he died, all I could think of was Mark will
never know how the series ended.
Ironically, Vince Flynn died last year and never did finish that Mitch
Rapp series. And I bet Mark asked him and now he knows and I have no clue. Figures.
Happy 50th birthday and someday we
shall pick at each other again.
