A Sister's Memory of Mark

Hi Mark,

I always talk to you, but I always wanted to add a message of what you meant to me to your Memory Website. I couldn't bring myself to do this any sooner, as I knew that I would have to take a journey through pain.

I have always had you in my life, as you were 16 months older than me. You were my best friend when we were very little kids. The most prominent thing about you, and the thing that I always envied about you is your ability to be happy. You were happy playing with a stack of poker chips lining up all the red chips, then the white chips, then the blue chips. Then you would line them up with one red, one white, one blue, then two red, etc. You could go on for hours playing with things that I had no interest in and be happy and fulfilled. You could look at something, REALLY look at something and see things that I could not see. You would look at a flower and see all the little stripes, and look at twigs and see the wonder in it.

Mom and Dad had a restaurant in LA when we were little. I remember us looking out the back window and saying that all the people were following us home. We thought that that was exciting. Then we sang a song that we made up called "bundle goola, bundle goola." I remember that we always sang it in the car, but I don't remember why or any other words to the song. It was special because it was "our" song.

I always watched what you were doing to join in, rather than you watching me and wanting to join in. You had your monster magazines, your Mad, Mad, Mad, World magazines, and your monster models. You enjoyed drawing and drew not landscapes or fruit or etc., but you drew "Rat Fink" and characters. Your sense of humor was childlike and goofy and you didn't have to have a dignity about it. You never lost that childlike sense of humor, which made you fun and easy to be around. Then there was your "Froggie" voice that you used for years. It was unique and funny, and then one day you lost your ability to do your "Froggie" voice.

There are many things that I miss about you, but I especially miss you for your memories. You were my memory of a lot of things in my childhood. I would call you on the phone and say, "hey, remember when such and such happened, who was there," etc. Also, you were the very closest person to me when I was little. I am somewhat protective of my memories about you now - - I don't want someone to say something that mars or tarnishes my memories of you. I can't go back to you now and ask you your version of a story, because many times when people have told me things you explained your version and it was different.

Your friends have pieces of you that I don't have. We all have different facets of our personality that we show when we are in the comfort or the safe confines of friendship. I want to hang on to your friends so they can share memories of you. I don't want to lose you. I have asked friends what you did and where you were on different occasions. I am so grateful that they are letting me share their memories of you with me.

I enjoyed watching you get excited about things. We could go to the same movie, and you could come home and tell someone about it in great detail. In fact, it was much more exciting to hear your version than the actual movie. If you ever saw the movie the second time, in your excitement you would tell us what was going to happen, thereby spoiling it for the rest of us.

You had this childlike curiosity, of wonderment, the ability to go up and talk to people without being afraid. You would see a palm tree in someone's yard, then knock on his or her door to discuss what kind of palm tree it was. You could talk to people and they would open up and let you into their lives. You knew how to nurture friendships, and your friendships lasted year after year. It is a tribute to you that you were able to stay friends with old girlfriends.

Your weight was always your cross to bare. You were heavy as a little kid and got teased for it, and you always hated dealing with your weight. The thing that was great about you is that you were able to get beyond the weight problem and find friends that you enjoyed. Not only did you have lots of friends that were boys in the neighborhood, but you also enjoyed getting together with the girls as friends when we were kids. Your best friends became Linda and Laurel and the girls at school. You always loved the cheerleaders and the pretty girls.

When Lynne Saunders was able to drive, she took all of us kids to the beach with her and her friends. When friends started wondering why Lynne always had you hanging around her, you both came up with this brilliant idea: we became cousins.

When you were little you loved animals. I always loved animals too. Somehow we ended up with a dog, (we always had a dog) three rabbits (Trixie, Thumper, and Tony Feara) at least one chicken, several turtles, and you caught 28 salamanders that you put in the laundry tub in the garage. The salamanders were all yours, and so was the responsibility of feeding them flies. You got so good at getting flies for the salamanders! You became an expert marksman with rubber bands. You could shoot flies off anything, and the salamanders never went hungry.

In grade school and high school you struggled with assignments, and for one book report you used a children's book called "A Cow In the Silo." We teased you forever about that. Who knew that you would become so interested in reading history and books of lists, plants, music, and everything else under the sun that you would acquire tons of books? Your favorite place to go became Borders Book Store where you got a 20% discount. For your birthday and Christmas you always gave the hint that we could give a gift certificate to Borders. When Tom traveled and I would meet you for dinner and a show, we would meet at Borders. I would look at all the books until I was bored stiff, then wait for you to look at all of the books AND listen to all of the music. I would secretly enjoy watching you in the music department. Here you would be, with earphones on, singing and swaying to the music, again happy and having a good time. You never could leave a Borders without making a purchase.

I don't remember the exact dates, but you traveled the United States for 2 years with your little dog Pupper. You were able to find odd jobs, mostly building swimming pools with John Rose (I am not sure if this is his correct name). You lived in Massachusetts, Georgia, in Atlanta, and also lived in Arkansas, but you traveled the highways and byways and took many pictures of your adventures. I think that you fell in love many times and probably had some of the best years of your life. I remembered that you came home when I was married to Randy, because I went over to Mom and Dad's house to see you. Pupper, being so protective, probably because she knew she had to take care of you when you lived in your van, would not let me get past the kitchen to go to your room to see you.

In August of 1977 you married the beautiful, tall, gorgeous, Marilyn Sieber. Again, you always loved the pretty girls. I was surprised; although I knew of Marilyn from High School, I didn't realize that you two were an item. When you decided to get married, it seemed like it was quick. The family really didn't know her before you got married. It was also a very sad time in my life, as Randy and I separated in July of 1977.

On December 13th, 1978 Melissa was born. Oh my God! What a proud father you were!
Melissa was such a little doll. She sang all the time. When it was her birthday she would sing song after song for us. You just glowed! Then Macain was born in March of 1981, the day that President Reagan was shot. I remember watching you and the extreme joy that you had on your face when the kids were born. You were a terrific father. You loved your kids, and let them know that you loved them. I remember one evening probably in the year 2002 that we were over at your house and Macain was there. He was leaving and you kissed him good-bye. You just loved your kids and enjoyed spending time with them. You let your kids see the real you, not someone who was stuffy, but someone who was fun and not all that perfect in many ways.

On September 20, 1985, was your birthday. Tom and I were getting married on a boat in Newport Harbor. Even though we told you otherwise, you secretly believed up until the moment that we got married that this was just an elaborate scheme to pull off a really nice birthday party for you. We all laughed about that for years.

In November of 1998, you and I sat down together to go over our family memories so we could present Mom and Dad with a presentation on their 50th Wedding Anniversary.
You bought a video camera for the occasion. We spent a couple of days walking down memory lane together and writing the spiel. At the 50th Anniversary party, you and I got up to present our memories to Mom and Dad. Then we had a family hug. I am so grateful that we have the written and video of the occasion.

One special day (probably in 2001 or early 2002) when you were redoing your house, you and I went shopping at a nearby strip mall. We went into a 3 D Bed and Bath and we tore the place apart! We looked for bedding, covers, and pillows to decorate your bed. We took a mock bed in the shop and tried one cover and pillows after the other trying to come up with the perfect combination. You ended up buying a bed cover, 2 sets of sheets, several big decorative pillows, and several small pillows. Then we went to a place like Pier One, and you bought the mirror for the entryway. You already had one in the entryway, but you like this particular one better. It was really fun going shopping with you and watching you spend money.

Now I have a hard time going shopping. I see things and I say to myself: "Wow, Mark would really like this, or I have to tell Mark about this," and then my heart breaks as the reality sets in again. Mom, Marilyn, Melissa, and Tom have all shared with me that they experience the same thing when shopping: we always see things that make us think of Mark. Tom and I went to see Macain perform at the House of Blue at Downtown Disney last month. We took Macain to the Rainforest Café for his first time. He said, "Wow, Dad would have liked this," or "Dad would have liked that." Yes, the Rainforest Café has many tropical elements that Mark would love. I tell Tom often, "you know, I live with you but when I go shopping I don't know what you would like or not like, but all of us know what Mark's taste were…."

In July of 2002, you had your "Tropical Party." We went down to Office Depot or Staples and picked out just the right tropical paper for the invitations. Tom and you spent a lot of time with the invitations. You contacted people and sent out all the invitations. It was a huge success! I have never seen you so happy in all my life. You brimmed with excitement, contentment, and happiness. Your yard was absolutely beautiful. Your house was finally painted inside and out and you were so proud of it. You had over a hundred people and Macain and his band came to sing. Lynne told me that she saw you in the hallway dancing by yourself and never looked happier. Mom and Dad said that they had never seen you so happy as the night of your party. You enjoyed it so much that you planned to have a party every year. Thank you God that you had that party.

Knowing now what I didn't know years ago, I am so glad that you didn't listen to me. I kept telling you that you needed to get a job where you worked everyday and got benefits, but you danced to your own drummer. You worked and took days off to enjoy your life. I am so thankful that you did.

One of the last days of your life, December 29th, the family met at Tom's Farms. Tom, you and I drove down there together. Brian, Lucy, Jacob, Jessica, Mom, Dad, and Gary met us there. We all walked around and talked while Dad saved tables for us to all sit, visit, and eat at. I started walking around with you and Tom. Then I remember that you and Tom saw a weather vane with a whale on it. You and Tom got into a discussion about if it was a sperm whale, or a hump back whale, or some other type of whale. You both stood there for so long that I decided to go off on my own to wander and explore and leave both of you to your discussion. Tom and you spent quite a bit of time together that day. The one thing that we all remember about you that day is that you took Jacob and Jessica to go look at the animals. You had Jessica on your back. As you came back with Jessie on your back, you had tears in your eyes. You sat down with the rest of us and said how innocent children are, and you had tears of wonderment in your eyes. Tom and I were going to the Morris Family Christmas party at Emerald Bay so we needed to leave a bit early. We asked you to come with us to the Morris house, and you wavered, then said no. You wanted to go to a shop that Tom told you about that had Tiki Gods. You called Tom later to tell him that you bought two. I wish that the Morris Family could have met you Mark.

One of the last conversations that I had with you I was able to tell you how much I loved the work you did on our house. We had a flood in September 2002. The bathroom toilet in the upstairs bathroom overflowed and the walls downstairs rained with water. You and Chris Hesketh took off the popcorn ceiling in the living room and entryway, painted, and you put up new crown molding and floor molding. It turned out beautiful. You called me and asked if I was upset that we had to pay you even though you gave us a discount. I remember telling you it was fine and that I really loved the way everything turned out, and what a wonderful job you did. I think that this is the last conversation that I ever had with you. If I had only known….

New Year's Eve of 2003 we went to Hemit to stay with Dianna and Phil Greening. You called several times while we were playing Shanghai to ask us how to play the game. Di and Phil and Tom and I laughed talking about different times that we had with you in the past.

I called you often just to talk, or to share, or to ask you about something. Every once in a while I still think, "Oh, I think I will call Mark to…." Then I remember….

I had a terrible day at work on January 7th. I was going to call you when I got home from work to ask you if you wanted our old carpet as we were getting new carpeting. I was so busy the morning of the 8th, that I put off calling you. I would call you later.

The most awful day of my life is the day that you died. In fact, my life can be defined now as before Mark died, and after Mark died. On January 8th I was sitting at my desk at Rosemount Analytical. The human resource person, Pat Haak, came into my cubicle and told me: "Rama, get your purse, shut down your computer, and come with me." Pat knew that my father was ill, and Pat knew that I was expecting him to go at anytime. So I said to Pat, "Pat, who died? Was it my father?" She would not tell me, and then I got frantic. Oh my God, could it be Tom? Could it be my Mom? Pat refused to tell me, and then she said: "Tom is here in the lobby for you." I then knew it was not Tom, thank God. When I reached Tom I said, "Who died?" He looked at me and said the words that forever changed my life: "Mark." I lost it.

We drove over to your house and you were still there. I will be forever grateful that you were still there. You looked so peaceful, like you were sleeping. I felt your presence, and I could picture in my mind's eyes and ears, and this is what I feel:

You were walking around us and saying: "Wow, isn't this something? I am dead? This is what is it like? Wow, this is so interesting and so neat. I am walking around all of you and watching all of you." I picture that Mark left his body and could see the gardens of heaven and just like Mark on earth was able to get so excited at the wonderment and the beautiful sights. Perhaps God said to Mark, "Would you like to stay here and wander around and see the rest of heaven, or do you want to go back?" I could picture Mark thinking it over, asking questions of God, then ultimately saying, "Well, everyone has to go sometime, and it is so much better here, I think I'll stay here and wait for everyone else to join me." That is my fantasy and I hope that it is true.

I will also be forever grateful that you did not die in a car accident, or a result of your crazy next-door neighbor, or some other accident. I would not have been able to rest. I sometimes wish that we could have somehow known so we could have petitioned God on your behalf: "God, please don't take Mark!" I wish we could have fought hard for you, I wish we could have made our voices and our pleas heard by God, but we didn't have that option. You talked to Mom on the phone on January 7th at 10:00 pm and asked how Dad was doing and you were concerned about Dad. Then, sometime between 10:00 pm and 7:00 am January 8th, you were gone.

I don't understand why you died, and the only way for me to feel ok about it is to hold fast to my picture of you in the gardens of heaven enjoying every second, every minute, everyday talking to all those that have gone before you, asking million of questions, searching out everyone that you have ever read about, reveling in the wonderment and joy of being "alive" in a different realm, and waiting for us to join you.

In life, there are tests, and criteria for passing a test and moving on to the next level. With Death, we don't know what the criteria are, but you had so many things done: you had great friends, loved life, and had your house painted and fixed up, etc. Did you pass "The Test" and therefore were granted access to the next level?

I felt your presence for the next several days. The family was in a fog of disbelief and grief. You just weren't supposed to die Mark! You loved life and had more friends than anyone else on earth that I knew! Dad kept saying that he wished that it had been him rather than you. I just could not reconcile your death… why? Why? Why Mark? Mark who loved life, Mark who has two wonderful children, Mark, who would have been passionate about being a grandfather someday. Mark, who was my friend, my confidant, someone I depended on to grow old with, Mark, my memory bank, Mark who would help me deal with Dad and Mom and Gary? I always come back to the picture of you in heavens gardens, and know that I just don't know why right now.

I had a dream about you sometime in February. You were standing in front of me and you looked the best I have ever seen you. You were thin, had a very happy look on your face. I ran up to you and said: "Mark, Mark, are you ok?" You looked at me very thoughtfully and nodded your head and said only one word: "Yeah." I woke up crying that morning. While hugging me, Tom asked me if the dream made me feel better, and I had to say, yes it did.

Sometimes when life seems overwhelming with responsibilities, chores, making ends meet, and the losses that we have had: losing Scott, you, Dad, our jobs, our financial security, I think that you got out well. Your life struggles are over. Somehow I am less afraid of death now than I was before….

I spent some time alone with you at Rose Hills. I had many things to say to you, but the one thing I stressed was this: the joy of watching your children being born is the joy that I hope you will have as each one of us joins you. I told you to be there when my time comes. I picture you waiting for Dad last August, then grabbing him as he entered the light and then having tears of joy at the sight of him. Then I picture you saying: "Come on Dad, let me show you around." I picture you both being able to know the real essence of each other without the earthly boundaries. I picture you both in the prime of your "life," young, not tired, not sick, not worried about meeting bills, or making a living, but enjoying each other.

Your Memorial Service was beautiful. Gary said that he felt your presence beside Mom and Dad. White Funeral Home in Bellflower was overflowing with people. Several people got up to speak about you, including Rodney, Marilyn's husband. Rodney called himself the "Husband-In-Law." How many ex-wives new husbands would get up and talk about their wife's former husband? You were well liked and loved by many people Mark. I hope you were there watching. Lynne and I said that you would be saying: "Oh, there is so and so," and, "Gee, why didn't so and so show up?" Chris Hearn said to Lynne, (I don't remember the exact words but it went something like this): "Lynne, do you think Mark would want us to miss the football game today to be here?" And Lynne said, "If it was something for Mark, YES!"

I won't be saying good-bye to you now Mark, as I will probably always talk to you. I just wish you were here when I talk to you rather than there.

There is a story that I heard many years ago. A child falls asleep at someone else's house. His father picks him up, carries him to the car, drives home and places the child in bed. In the morning, the child wakes up in his own bed, but does not know how he got there. He made the transition in the arms of his loving father.

So Mark, we will see you in the morning…. Just be there to greet us ok?

Love,
Your Sister,
Rama


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