I’m really not sure just where to begin or even what to say. I’ve been trying to finish this piece for some time. I would write a little bit here and there, walk away in tears, come back, and then leave again. Truthfully, it’s been very painful for me.
Mark was only 41 years old.
A long time ago a friend once told me:
“Life is like a circle and there are no words to describe my loss.” For some reason, those words have stayed with me and that is exactly how I feel. There are no words to describe the loss of my brother. As my mother said, it’s impossible to wrap my mind around what has happened.
It was a heart-wrenching day on March 19, 2008 in Queens, New York. Prior to the service Mark was given a Jewish Tahara, which is a ritual washing of the body accompanied by prayers governed by kovod ha met, respect for the body. He was then dressed in soft white linens followed by more prayers.
The day was gray and cold but being surrounded by some of Mark’s dearest friends warmed my heavy heart. Birds chirped softly and small raindrops fell from the trees as we stood together to honor Mark. Benny, Allison, Joey, Joanne, Mae, Sandra, Catriona, Marty and Brandon, thank you all for creating a warm circle of love that embraced Mark. In the stillness, I felt hearts breaking around me. The rabbi was soft spoken, his face relaxed. Joanne, your poem to Mark was sweet. As you were reading it so eloquently, I felt as though Mark was standing by your side, saying “Hmmm, not bad, not bad.” You described Mark SO perfectly. I will never forget it.
Mark was constantly telling me about his friends. He had affectionate nicknames for almost everyone. Some that I remember are: Young Mae, Sandra feisty Paz, Benny the Jew, Crazy Lyne, Mr. Wig, Hippy Daddy, Uncle Davy, The Nubiles. His younger sister Sharon was Mental Case #0321. Mark made an impact on so many people’s lives, more than he will ever know. He was certainly instrumental in my life.
Mark was really happy when he was working at Scient, where he eventually became Chief Morale Office. There was excitement and energy in him. He loved it there and enjoyed the people he worked with. He told me about various functions where he was responsible for setting up the festivities and time after time he would entertain me up with his hilarious stories. He talked about women at work and asked me for sisterly advice. I remember when a new female boss came on board and there was some friction between them. He had some choice words for her, but again, his description of events cracked me up. He was never mean-spirited; in fact, he put humor into it and took it on as a challenge to win her over with his personality and wit.
Did you know Mark was a movie star? Yes he was! I was flying to DC with my husband around 1999 and all of a sudden I heard Mark’s voice. We looked up and saw Mark on the airplane’s movie screen talking about Scient! I couldn’t believe it. He was featured in a news story about Internet companies like Scient. I will never forget that moment.
I remember his multicolored Mohawk when he was a teen. He loved the attention. Mark like to question authority and didn’t really care about what people thought of him. He was determined to live his life the way he wanted to, not one created by society, always being true to himself, living an authentic life.
Mark was painfully truthful. There was no dancing around the truth with him about life issues. He took them on head first, honestly but with humor and kindness mixed in. He never sideswiped you; he just spoke the truth. Boy, I wish more people were like him.
Mark was so funny and brilliant his entire life, even when he was a child with his blond curly hair, red lips and those big blue eyes of his. He always had something to say. Once he really embarrassed me when he was all of 5. (I was 12). I told him if he ate his peanut butter sandwich it would “stick to his ribs”. Mark looked at me like, “you’re kidding, right?” and said, “For your information, Gina, peanut butter can NOT stick to your ribs because it goes to your stomach which is a sac!” I was speechless. I have so many memories of him as a child, pure and innocent. I remember very clearly carrying him around the house on my hip when he was wearing cloth diapers, his little wet face next to mine; playing in his pool; loving; silly; wearing little brown loafers with tiny shoestrings; his plaid pants; his runny nose. Picking blackberries by our house in San Anselmo, his face both purple from the juice and red from the hot sun. Walking him to school, playing hide and go seek, protecting him, and of course, tormenting him.
He attended the University of California, Berkeley as an art major, learned how to speak French, and did it well. He spoke a little Yiddish also. He was a fascinating person, a true charmer. Mark could write Greek, too. He was a poet and his poems were deep, intelligent and would wind around in a web-like fashion making perfect sense, leaving his readers inspired. He was well-traveled, having been to India, Tibet, Hawaii, Thailand, China (a long train trip with his father), Paris, London, and Brazil. He loved being with friends and going out for nice dinners. He loved the Taddich Grill and Joe’s in San Francisco. Taddich Grill has fussy waiters and he loved that!
He was a great guitar player and wrote beautiful music. Not too long ago he told me he wrote a new song so I asked him to sing it to me and he said, “Ya sure now? Well okay then, here it is.” He plucked away at his guitar, singing his song about love, his eyebrows going up every now and then and then looking up at me with his blue eyes to see my reaction. I remember telling him it was beautiful and he laughed. He laughed again and said, “Oh thanks, I’m still working it out.” God, how I wish I remembered those lyrics. I was just so happy that he felt comfortable singing to me.
Once, he did stand up comedy in SF (what guts!) He loved reading books, and read them like they were going out of style. He had lists of books that he wanted to read and always had a least five in his backpack that he was devouring. He was well read, that’s for sure. Mark’s high school English teacher once told my mother that Mark wrote so well she wouldn’t be surprised if he became another Steinbeck.
He was my only brother, my mother’s only son. I miss him terribly. It haunts me how everything reminds me of him. Curly brown hair, songs, tall men, smells, laughter, blue eyes, cigarettes (I look to see how people hold them now) books, humor, honesty, intelligence and lopsided smiles.
I loved Mark so much and enjoyed being around him. I loved walking down the street with him. He was so tall, 6’ 2”, and I felt proud to be with him. He made me feel safe. On his 40th birthday we took him to a very cozy French restaurant in San Francisco (Chez Papa). He wore a suit and looked sooo handsome. I wasn’t the only one who thought so, as women couldn’t take their eyes off of him. He ordered in French… we had a great time.
Mark was great with kids. He made mine laugh so hard with his stories and quick wit. On Thanksgiving 2007 my husband and Mark took our kids to the park. My daughter said, “we put Uncle Mark in jail and he chased us around and he even watched me do the monkey bars.” During our dinner she whispered to my mother, “you have a funny son”, and he was. What a breath of fresh air he was.
That he was so young and had so much POTENTIAL makes his passing even sadder.
My heart is torn and my grieving is relentless. Daily I am brought to my knees, my tears nonstop. Without warning, grief grabs me and takes me down to a deep, unforgiving place within. Mark was my little brother and always will be. It’s hard to imagine all of this… it does not feel real, yet, I know it is. I loved Mark deeply and I miss him so much.
I would love to hear other’s stories about Mark.
Peace to all,
Gina
(That’s me between Mark and my husband)
