Mourning Death and Celebrating Life

Saying goodbye to Mark and trying to put into words what he means to me and to my two boys, Samuel and Oliver, has been the most difficult experience of my life. And it’s been so helpful, so healing.

I met Mark on October 16, 2020 at the Santa Monica Swim Center soon after the boys and I arrived from NYC. Mark found me. He picked me up in the swim center parking lot with his irresistible charm. When I asked him if he was trying to pick me up, he said, “Yeah, I am!”

Mark was like no one I’d ever met and yet he felt like home from the start. 

Although we were very different in many ways, Mark soon became my best friend, my perfect match, my love, and was the only person in the world who loved the sun and water as much as me.

As I try to make some sort of sense of his passing, and how Mark, this man so full of vibrance, so fully in love with his life, is not with us in physical form any longer, I’ve thought a lot how he lived life and his essence. 

To me Mark was FULL of irony and contrasts.

He loved the simple things in his life, like the Dodgers and the Lakers, beach walks, catching up with family and friends on the phone, the occasional bacon cheeseburger, and scrolling through TikTok. And he was deeply spiritual and contemplative. Mark prayed at each meal for his daughters and son-in-law, for me and my boys, his brother Mike, and all who were in his heart, and he gave thanks for all the hands that touched the food and for the water on the planet from which the food initiated. When swimming he’d invite his mom in spirit to join him since she also loved being in the pool. 

Mark prized his alone time. You could find him plugged into his phone listening to the Blues while walking down the beach or sitting in his car with the windows down listening to the Lakers game. And Mark loved being with people. He cherished spending time with his beautiful daughters who he was so proud of and knew everyone who worked at the pool and at our coffee shop. Mark nurtured his long-time friendships and made time to be with me every day.

Mark loved offering his unsolicited advice and solving unsolvable problems especially when it came to parenting. And he was supportive and was able to hold space for the deepest of emotions. Mark was the best listener and was able to hear not only what I was saying but what I wasn’t saying. 

He was obsessive about washing dishes, helping me with my laundry, and cleaning every crevice of his Lexus weekly. And he’d encourage my boys to make a mess in his house, whether with food, Easter egg paint, or the hose out back. He was also fine with me spilling coffee or putting my sandy feet in his freshly cleaned car. He preferred his bed messy and unmade. 

Mark could not find his Netflix, Hulu or WIFI passwords to save his life. And he was completely on top of the ups and downs of his stock portfolio, his commission checks, his work emails, and his boss’ work emails. 

Mark did not prioritize going to the doctor or dentist unless a tooth was falling out or his ears were so plugged he couldn’t hear or sleep. And he prioritized his health. Mark gave up smoking at the start of the pandemic and we both stopped drinking over a year ago. He ate mostly healthy organic gluten free foods and took afternoon naps whenever he could. 

He could be goofy and LOUD. Mark once broke the arm off my dining chair just by sitting down in it. And Mark was a classy gentleman with a romantic heart. He often left flowers on my car door when I parked at the pool and he always opened my car door for me.

Mark loved staying within his 2 square mile radius and comfort zone here in Santa Monica. And he also loved adventures and travel — speaking fondly of the places he’d been and all the places we’d go together in the future. 

He wore the same damn flip flops day in and day out for over a year pretty much everywhere (in that 2 mile radius), and he looked amazing in a suit and tie. He’d stress out about which clothes to wear for important events for days, and then on arrival he’d walk in dapper, confident, and in his skin. 

Mark could be a real spendthrift. The only thing he liked about turning 60 was getting a 50% discount on the already reasonable $3 swim at the pool. And I’ve never met anyone as generous and giving as Mark was with his money. 

When Mark thought he was getting a cold he’d gobble up oil of oregano in a paranoid panic. He holed himself off in his room saying, “I’m a BIG BABY when I’m sick, love!” And he’d jump in the ocean any day, even body surfing with Sam and Oliver on New Year’s Day. He was so strong and hearty.

He called himself semi-retired and loved the flexibility and balance he created working from home these past couple of years. And Mark worked hard and spent a lot of time and energy on his work, thinking about how to best serve his clients and especially help children in need.

The day before he passed, Mark and I swam at 7:00 am. He was fiercely competitive in the pool and could easily swim 1.5 miles 5 days a week racing the fastest of swimmers. That Friday morning as we got out of the water, Mark proudly announced to me, “I showed that 30-year-old.” Then he walked over to that 30-year-old, gave him a fist bump and graciously thanked him for the motivation. 

Mark could be set in his ways and a little rigid when it came to his routines. In the morning he had to first drink his lemon water and had a standing date with his theragun. Plus, he had to do two workouts of some sort on most days. And Mark was always learning, changing, and evolving those same ways, routines, and workouts.

Mark could be fiercely independent, answering to no one and belonging only to himself. And he was extremely loyal, committed, dependable, and he belonged to us all. 

Mark had dreams and made plans for the future with our circle – his family and friends plus my family and friends – as if he was going to live forever. And he soaked up each moment like it was his last day on earth.

The way Mark lived, his essence, and even his passing holds the full spectrum of the human experience.

Shadows and light

Clean and messy

Simple and complex

I’m forever grateful for all Mark taught me about life and love. 

Mark loved and embraced all sides of me, my own shadows and light. He made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world whether I donned a swim cap, yoga pants, or was all dolled up. He loved my face and he even loved the sideways glance I gave him when I was mad. No place felt more at home than his arms. We had the most soulful connection I’ve ever known. 

Mark also loved and embraced Samuel and Oliver. He showed up for them at their school events, flag football games, and delighted in hearing about their days, their friends, and their activities as he drove them home from school or swim practice. He especially loved being able to play their favorite music LOUD in the car when I wasn’t with them to turn it down. 

Most importantly, Mark encouraged Samuel and Oliver to walk their truth in this life, just as he walked his. 

What I miss most is talking with Mark. I miss his voice talking me through all of life’s challenges and opportunities. 

Mark loved watching the sunset and we’ve seen hundreds together. I believed we’d see thousands more. And I’m so grateful to have been a part of his sunset in this lifetime. 

Mark would often say, “Everything happens for a reason,” especially when apparently not so great things were happening.

So why Mark? Why now?

How can it be that the healthiest, strongest, most vital, most full of love and full of life person I know be gone? 

How could this beautiful man slip away in his sleep? 

I don’t know about you, but I’m searching for meaning in what makes no sense.
And that’s exactly what all the contrasts of Mark’s essence calls us to do. 

To go beyond. 

To trust that nothing makes sense and everything happens for a reason.
That this life on earth is all things. 

The messiness is the blessiness.

Mark’s leaving so soon, so abruptly is a cruel gift.      

I hate that Mark left us and cherish every moment I had with him. 

I miss him terribly. And I’ve never felt him closer than now. 

He’s gone and he’s everywhere.

He broke my heart and opened it. 

We mourn his death and celebrate his life. 

Mark’s essence teaches me that when I believe I understand life I’ve got more to learn. 

On our two-year anniversary of meeting just a few weeks ago, Mark and I went kayaking in the Marina and we had some close and quirky encounters with sea lions, one tapping my oar and another swimming right under Mark and following us while we kayaked. 

After we left the Marina, Mark learned that his lifelong friend, Richard, had passed while snorkeling in Hawaii. 

He understood that those sea lions were messengers from Richard, letting him know he was okay and that Richard was still with us just not in physical form.

He then asked Richard to “join his team,” knowing that he could count on him for guidance and support. 

I share this because I know we can all count on Mark now, as always and more than ever, for guidance, love, and support. He’s on our team! Ask him a question. He’ll answer you in the form of a whisper in your ear or speak with you in your dreams. Ask him for signs and listen to how the hawks screech above you, how the wind blows stronger, how the dolphins dance for you, and even how mosquitos bite you to show you he’s there. He’s alive! 

Ask Mark to join you on your beach walks, swims, and to watch Lakers games. He’ll be there. Ask him for advice. He loves giving advice. 🙂

This chapter with Mark ends and the story goes on. 

Mark’s spirit asks us that even if some things don’t make sense in life, to trust life. To trust that there’s a great positive generative force in the Universe that drives all things. While much of life is fleeting, it’s also eternal. 

Mark, bless your radiant, indomitable spirit. 

Bless your generous, super-sized heart. 

Bless your absence and your vibrant presence. 

Bless the bountiful life you lived and the countless lives you touched. 

Bless the lessons you continue to teach us about how to live and love. 

Bless you baby.

May we always find you, our beloved, where sun meets water. Where sky meets land. 

In every sunrise and every sunset. 

And may we always keep searching.