2010 didn't start off well for me. I've definitely mentioned that over the last few months to many people, both close and those who have a working knowledge of the life that is Shawn. Still, five months after losing one of my best friends, I'm only starting to grasp the idea that losing someone you care about is going to be a lifelong hurt that you try and deal with as the pain comes. Yesterday was exactly 5 months since my friend Mark passed away. And the thing that still is very real to me is it feels like it just happened.
Tonight, as I've done a few times now since he's passed away, I logged on to myspace (something I do so rarely that it's almost amusing to think of how addicted I once was to it) and looked at the rankings of friends that I set up a while back. Right there in the top 3 was Mark's name with his Chuck Halloween costume from two years ago giving his bewildered shrug for all the world to see. I can't help it, when I log on and see that, I end up checking out his myspace page every time. As I've done a few times since his memorial service, I reread a blog that he wrote at the beginning of 2007 when he was talking of people trying to keep Christmas in their hearts all year long and how helping people shouldn't be about yourself but about the person you're helping.
I won't lie. Every time I read that post, it makes me cry.
The first time I tried watching Superman after he died I had the same reaction. When the theme song kicked in and Superman saves Lois? Yeah, I was gone. It took me months before I could even attempt to watch any of the Indiana Jones movies. I haven't had the guts or the heart to watch Star Wars. I don't think I'm ready for that one yet.
In the last few months I've imagined that I came to terms with losing my friend. And then there's the times when I know I'm back to square one all over again. I told a friend recently how in my mind I've been trying to keep track of the cool geek stuff that's happened over the last few months since Mark's been gone because if he comes back I want him to know all about it.
Yes, I know how stupid that sounds. It's almost like an OCD problem at this point, but the reason behind it is still there.
Death, and in this case unexpected death, is something that's not easy for anyone involved because you never get a chance to say what you hoped to or would like to say. There's no goodbyes. You're left with the last memories you have of that person. In my case, I got to spend one last Wednesday night at the comic shop with Mark and then we both went to Applebees where Matt met up with us. A week after Mark's passing I remember saying to Matt "He managed to get one more Wednesday night with us before he left." And the funny thing was not long after I made that comment, but on the speakers at Applebees Five for Fighting came on with Superman and both of us, along with Mark's sister, just kind of sat there taking in that moment. It was like the universe or Mark's way of saying "I'm not giving up on my Wednesday nights yet. I'm still here with you guys."
Death in comic book form is one of the worst things for a fan. It teaches them to always say "they'll be back". Besides Uncle Ben, try to think of a few other characters that really managed to stay dead. In my mind I haven't been able to make that transition into reality yet. Maybe I never will. Places like myspace, facebook, or even the texts and emails I've gotten over the years are enough to keep Mark alive and well for me. But I still can't shake that feeling when I see someone of a similar build walking by or if I see a blue truck on the road that maybe, just maybe, he's managed to find a way to not make death permanent. Superman managed to do it.
Death also makes me want to be a time traveler more than ever. There are a few things I wish I could go back and redo or make different. I've added the night of January 6, 2010 to that list. If even for 5 minutes before leaving the parking lot at Applebees, I would have loved to have pulled Mark aside and said everything and anything I've been needing to say over the last 5 months. I'm sure there's no amount of things that could be said that would make you feel you've said it all, but just to be able to say I was honored to be his friend, humbled that he wanted to work on ideas with me and try to create these worlds that lived in our minds, and no matter what sort of speed bumps might have happened in our friendship it didn't mean I looked at him in any way less than him being my brother. To quote my friend Randy, I love you, Mark. Not Gandalf and Frodo sort of love, though. If there was no way to stop what happened, if that event was destined to happen that evening and I couldn't change it, I still would have wanted five minutes more no matter what.
In a way, though, I feel like that did happen.
I've been trying not to be blindly believing in this, but at the same time I'm not a skeptic so it's harder for me to doubt it, too. A month to the day that Mark left us, I had a dream about him. The dream was pretty straightforward. The guys and I got together on our normal Wednesday night Applebees run. When it was time to leave and we were making out way out the door, I walked outside and it was daytime instead of night. The cars that should have been in the parking lot were gone and only one car was there: Mark's beat up pick up truck, with him sitting on the lowered tailgate smiling. Before I knew what was happening I ran over to him and made a point of telling him he wasn't supposed to be there. He laughed at me, probably from saying that and probably because of my overall reaction of amazement and excitement to see him again. I started trying to rattle off a million questions of how he's come back, where did he go, what was it like, etc. Before we could really talk I remember a big group of people coming in from my left and pulling me away from him. I fought them, wanting to stay and talk to my friend as long as I could. Mark just smiled and waved to me. "It's cool. Go with them. It's ok." For the first time since he left us, I felt like Mark didn't leave the building yet. He was there and he wanted me to know that wherever he is he's not in pain. He was smiling bigger than any of the pictures I've found of him smiling before. There was a sense that a huge weight was lifted and he was enjoying the peace he discovered. At least that's what I read into it.
Honestly that dream hasn't faded since I had it. Could it have been him trying to tell me we were cool and he didn't want me beating myself up over what was left unsaid? Maybe. In the days after his passing I often liked to imagine that Mark was everywhere and anywhere. He could see how each of the people he loved were coping, maybe as a way of letting himself become aware of how many people he mattered to. Like Randy said to me after we had the memorial service for Mark, that should have been his birthday so he could have seen how many people cared about him. I think he would have thought of it like It's A Wonderful Life when the town comes to George's aid and he sees how many people his one life has touched, changed, and made a difference in.
There's not a day that goes by that Mark doesn't cross my mind one way or another. It's just the way it is and how I wouldn't want it any other way. We all miss you, buddy.
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