Mood:
smellyTopic: Friends and Family
Sorry that I haven't posted... I'm sure that you understand.
Anyway, I wanted to post the eulogies read at the service.
Here is the one that I wrote:
Let me just say that I consider myself one of the most fortunate people in the world, because I was blessed enough to be Mark’s only child. He was the best father I could have asked for, and I’m thankful for the close relationship that we had, and the years we had together-although they were much too short. Like most people here, I was convinced that my father would live forever, and the loss of him has been devastating to me, as I know that it is to this entire community. He loved this community dearly, and as I’ve seen over the past week, this community loved him just as much. I know that most of you are just as shocked and heartbroken as I am.
My father loved life and everything in it. He was a lifetime student as well as a lifetime teacher. Whether the subject matter was organic or mechanical, he wanted to take it apart to see what made it tick. He would rather understand a person than judge them, and would do whatever he could to help someone out, whether they realized they’d been helped or not.
My father and I shared many a night at Pizza Hut, usually Mondays, because that was 2 for 1 pasta night. Other nights we would rent a movie from the library or off the dollar rack at Video Scene and pop some popcorn.
I really wish that I could tell you all of my dad’s interests, but they were so numerous that I wouldn’t want to leave anything out. There’s really not much that my dad wasn’t interested in – except for pop culture, of course, and I never knew him to go skydiving, either. He was always on the go; always everywhere and into everything. I can’t tell you how many people I would run into who had just seen my dad recently – most frequently at the library, of course.
My friend told me of one sighting last year – she was driving through town when she heard what she thought was a lawnmower. She was trying to figure out where it was coming from, but then she saw my dad driving down the road in one of his little MR-2’s. I think that it was probably the same one that he was driving when he was late to my company picnic last year – the muffler fell off on his way there. A normal person would have just said “Forget it, it’s not worth the trouble!” – but not my dad. He turned around and just brought his other car. If he said that he would be somewhere, you could count on him. I certainly wish that I would have inherited his punctuality, but timeliness is not one of my qualities.
My dad took me trick-or-treating for Halloween each year. One year, he painted my face like a witch… he did such a good job that when I looked in the mirror, I started crying. He washing it all off of my face and made it a little less scary. Since no one else would be home, he decided to leave the candy in a bowl on the porch. He looked through all the cabinets and could only find the big stainless steel bowl that he used to make his homemade granola (which he would pour apple juice over and eat for breakfast every morning). So he put the bowl out with the candy on the front porch. When we returned from trick-or-treating, the bowl had disappeared. My father was so upset that those ‘little hoodlums’ had taken his bowl! A few months later, he saw his bowl under the community center by our house. It was all dented up and dirty, but my dad was so happy to have his bowl back. I said, “You aren’t going to use that, are you?” To which he replied, “I can still use it – I’ll just wash it and bend it back into the best shape I can.” My father was the same way with people – they held the same value to him, even if they were a little dirty or beaten up; if they weren’t particularly shiny. If they were uneducated, he would teach them. If they’d fallen down, he’d give them a hand up. He was able to see the potential in them, even if they couldn’t see it themselves. My father was a great man, and he tried to find the good in people, and he would put forth all of his effort into making his community a better place.
I want to just take a minute to read something that I gave my dad close to 10 years ago for Father’s Day – and please excuse the liberties that I apparently took to make things rhyme:
Happy Father’s Day!
Featuring a poem as the next thing in the series of “Best Dad in the World”. I know that I haven’t been the best daughter, but you’ve been the best dad. I love you!
A day like today
Is just like any other
Except that it’s special
And full of mush-all
You’ve been there for me
When I needed you most
And it makes me feel good
When to others you boast
About me.
But you’re my dad
And you’re doing a great job.
When I thought the world
Was coming down,
You braced it with your back
And with me, I know that I’ve
Put you on the rack-
A lot.
But in the end I know
That you only want the best for me
And I’ve learned so much from you –
If you only knew…
How much I love you!
In closing, I’d like to say that if one day, I can have even half of the impact that my father had in this world, that I will have achieved great things.
My aunt nancy sent a great one, too... there's another one that my dad's friend wrote that I'll post up here when I get it typed up.
This is from her:
I’m sorry I’m unable to be here with you today to celebrate the life of my brother, Mark. I would have liked to meet each and every one of his Caroline County family because I know how much you have enriched his life during the past 25 years and helped make it possible for him to live the authentic life that was so important to him.
Mark and I have always had a lot in common. We shared a great love of music, particularly Frank Sinatra. Mark introduced me to his music when I was a teenager and taught me not just to love it but to understand WHY I loved it.
We have both followed careers as professional entertainers, and one of my regrets is that, while we performed together as children and during university, we never did so professionally.
We shared a love of art, culture, psychology, good company and stimulating conversation. We were united by our place in the family as the two rebellious middle children; and this may have been part of what lead us both to leave the suburbs of Washington, D.C. for more exotic destinations.
We shared an intense allergy to vacuum cleaners. And I intend to carry on this tradition, Mark. Don’t you worry about that!
When I was a teenager, Mark taught me to smoke a pipe. Fortunately that one went by the wayside.
There is a lot about Mark that I will carry with me every day of my life. But of all his qualities, to me, the most impressive thing about him was his courage and relentless insistence on leading an authentic life. He lived his life from the inside out, with a shrug at how others might perceive him from their side. He was equally disinterested in judging or trying to change others.
He judged his wealth by what was inside him, not the external trappings. . . . Well, except maybe for his car and his extensive E-Bay collection…….. And he particularly judged his wealth by what he knew. He LOVED to share that knowledge, sometimes more than we might have wished. I once asked him for his opinion when I was planning to purchase a new keyboard, and his expertise was so detailed and technical that within a few minutes my eyes were glazing over and I wanted to say “too much information, Mark,” but he shared with so much joy, I didn’t have the heart. I’m so glad now that I just listened.
So today, I’m going to share something very special with you. Of all the things that I learned from Mark, this is one of the things that I have treasured year after year and which has provided me with great sustenance. It’s something even the average person, like myself, can understand. It’s his recipe for popcorn. The night he died, I popped a batch and watched one of his favorite movies, “Revenge of the Nerds”. This seemed to me to be a fitting tribute.
Popcorn was serious business with Mark, and he researched the best way to get the best result. Every detail is important.
Cover the bottom of a pan with one layer of popcorn and drizzle oil over it. Shake the pan around until all the kernels are coated. Cover and heat on medium high. When you hear the first kernel pop, slightly lift the cover and throw in two tablespoons of butter or margarine and quickly close the cover.
Shake the pan as the corn pops until no more popping is heard. The butter will have melted into the popcorn and you will have only one pan to wash. That’s the best part. But the popcorn is great too. And if you are careful lifting the lid, you won’t have to vacuum.
I’d like to leave you with one last thought, not mine, but Ingrid Van Meter’s, someone I found on the internet when I was searching for some wisdom on accepting the death of my dear brother, who wanted to live forever, at such a young age:
“We leave this earth with unfinished business of many kinds, such as discovering more of our latent possibilities, and resolving relationships. Inwardly we are never separated from those we love. Whatever our memories of them, the finest and most meaningful will be experienced after death. Where there have been deep bonds we are bound to be together again and again, for love is eternal.”
Every time that corn pops, that’s my big brother.
Well, hopefully I can post more later.. thanks for reading.
posted by a cautiously optimistic Redskins fan
at 7:41 PM EDT
down
not sure
special
celebratory
rushed
crushed out