Today we attended the funeral for Mark Ryan. He passed in his sleep at the young age of 47 years old. Funerals are a rite of passage for the living. Our opportunity to say good-bye to loved ones, to join with friends and family in remembrance. The deacon asked if anyone would like to speak, to share memories of Mark. I wanted to walk up to share two instances when he showed me that he always thought of others and was willing to help at any time if he was able.
I get lots of packages in the mail--ask my husband. One day, I received a manila envelope from Mark with a black and white picture of Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I love the Wizard of Oz and always have since I was a little girl. My sister Jeanette and I would watch it every year on TV even though the Wicked Witch scared the bejesus out of us. Anyway, I messaged Mark, thanking him for the picture and he said, "I've been looking for something from the Wizard of Oz for you. Juanita told me that you really love that movie." I didn't have the heart to tell him that the glass on the frame broke in the mail.. I was very touched that he thought of me evem though we didn't see each other that often.
A couple of weeks ago, Jaden and I trekked to La Veta to help Gloria, move Aunt Olivia to Tennessee. I was thinking about all of the hard work ahead of us as there were four women, lots of boxes, some furniture and a big moving truck to fill. Gloria messaged Mark as he had offered to help as well and he showed up bright and early with his friend to lug the big stuff. He was a life saver that day.
Today, looking at the slide show in his honor, I realized that I didn't know much about Mark. I only knew the man my cousin fell in love with. The man who cared and loved their son Brandon. The man who cared and loved for Brandon's dog. The man who had a big heart. The man, who wasn't afraid to be himself--that's something we don't see very often.
I spoke with his stepmother for a short time and realized that I didn't know him at all. She said that he had finally laid to rest some of his trials and tribulations. That he used to call her when his effort to do something special for others was met with disapproval rather than appreciation. He called her to calm his mind and to soothe his soul. He called her to put a band aide on his heart for he truly was once again a little boy who needed someone he loved to tell him, "Good Job" or simply "thank you". Some of us try to find meaning and fulfillment in our lives. Some of us find it and some of us don't. I believe that Mark had found that meaning and fulfillment in his life with Juanita and Brandon. In helping his neighbors. In a huge extended family with all of our ups and downs. He found it and now he has left us. We can be happy knowing that his life here was meaningful. Good bye Mark--you were a good man with a big heart. Rest in peace.
