Mark -- or Higgy, as most people called him -- was one of the best guys I knew in high school. I was proud to call him my friend and hope he saw me as the same. Gentlemanly and kind I was always happy to be around him. Twice our lockers were next to each other. In senior English in Mrs. P's class I loved the days when we'd have group assignments because Mark and I would usually be in a group and sometimes David would come in from Art class. Those days have always been precious to me but now I really wish I could lock them in a box so I never forget. I wish my memory were less fragile.
(Thanks to Louie for the great picture taken at my sister's 17th birthday)
Most of all, though, I remember times at Stomping Grounds. Times just hanging out and talking about nothing. Times where we would all bear our souls. The time we had the church lock-in there and Mark taught me to play poker -- and I beat everyone including him. I remember the dozens and dozens of letters he wrote me in response to mine once he joined the military. The visits we had when he was on leave. And all of it is not enough. I had only talked to Mark off and on for the past couple of years. We kept up with each other through facebook and random IMs and once or twice a phone call.
And now? And now he is gone. I don't know any details of what happened or when the funeral services will be, it is surreal to be thinking of such things. Not Mark. Surely not.
A little part of me feels like the grief, the ache in my stomach and the tears that feel compelled to stream constantly from my eyes are selfish. What of those who losses were greater? His family and those he loved every day?
What will we do without Mark? The world spins and I'm left wondering all these questions which are so cliche. I often feel as if life is too short to live the way I do. Worrying and stressing about small things. And the loss of someone important devastates in a way that I can't explain. There is a third of me that wants to throw myself into my daily routine to forget, another third that wants to go to bed and not get out and the last wants to throw caution to the wind and go after what I want.
But then that would make this about me and that feels selfish too. But what else are you supposed to do when you lose someone dear to you? Someone who changed you in a million small ways, but probably never knew it? So I guess the only way to honor that person is to make sure to live your own life in the best way possible. To do the things that we all say we will but never actually do. It feels like an empty way to honor Mark. It is not enough. But it is all that I can do. Finances and my job will prevent me from going to the funeral, but I will likely spend my time writing about him. scanning my brain for memories. Do any of you know him? Miss him? Have a good memory?
