I have been laughing most of the night due to an email I received from Mark's Aunt Deb.  She read the posting about Mark turning blonde in Florida and of course, Aunt Deb had a picture.  I have posted it at left.

This picture is so funny because it was taken at one of our "family reunions."  For years, we all got together for an annual family picnic.  We had tshirts made that said "Original Henderson", for those of us who were born a Henderson....and others that said "Odd Henderson" for those that started out life with a different last name.  I remember the year we made Grandma Stella an apron...and she was very angry that it was green and said Odd Henderson.  It had nothing to do with the Originals calling her "Odd"....it was that she had been a Henderson longer than all of us put together. 

One year, as Aunt Deb and Uncle Mike were packing up the car to go to the picnic...a neighbor asked where they were going.  Deb told them they were headed to their family reunion.  The neighbor excitely asked where everyone was coming in from.  Aunt Deb told them "Oh, some from Kansas, some from Nebraska."  She didn't have the heart to tell her that we all live within 25 miles of each other and see each other frequently.  We loved our family picnics, and we weren't going to let anybody think they were less than what they were...even if it meant telling a couple of lies.

From the picture, you would think that the picnic was a torture for Jeff, John, Mick and Mark.  The looks on their faces are something else. One can see how blonde Mark was.

Today is Christopher's birthday.  I sent Mike and Deb a message and told them that I know last year Mark probably didn't know exactly where to take his eldest cousin out for his first cousin birthday celebration in Heaven...but this year I am sure Mark knows where all of the great spots are.  My poor dad.  I know his two grandsons are hitting him up for that last dollar he has in his wallet.

Please think of Deb and Mike, Jeff and Mick today.  Birthdays are special....even in Heaven.

I am amused by the postings regarding the grandson with red hair.  He is no Bozo, he is a fool and even though I don't see him very often....whenever he posts something, it ALWAYS makes me smile.

On Mark's birthday, my good friend and angel mom, Gwen Houska, called to check on me.  We talked about having another group meeting of Bereaved Beauties (what I call Angel Moms).  It really is the only time I wished my house was larger so I could accommodate these special women.  We talked about everyone bringing a picture of their angel.  As fate would have it, most of the angels we discuss I knew...and Mark knew.  There are a couple that I don't know and would like faces to go with the wonderful stories I hear.

So, everyone is to bring a picture.  I am having a terrible time choosing one or two.  I have spent the past hour looking at the boxes I have of Mark and they bring back such memories.  Mark loved to have his picture taken, and I can recount almost in every picture, what he was saying, doing and what kind of mood he was in.

Perhaps one of my favorite pictures is his kindergarten picture.  I remember he came home from school and I asked him about having his picture taken.  I made him show me how he stood, and of course how he smiled.  He was so proud of himself.  He said, "Mama, I combed my own hair myself."  When the pictures came, there was a note attached to it that he could have retakes.

No way, no how.  I was holding in my hand what would come to be one of my most favorite pictures of Mark, and they were suggesting that I have it retaken!!!

I am grateful to Mark's Aunt Deb who for hours scanned and put into programs a great deal of Mark's pictures.  I have easy access to them at all times and was able to find this picture within minutes.  I have posted it....for no other reason than I do check this website very very often...and I know that each time I click in, I will see that little boy who was so proud of his hair combing techniques.

It wasn't the only time he attempted to self style himself.  I remember one day that he decided to shave off his sideburns while I was still at work.  He probably was in second grade.  He immediately saw that he had not only shaved his sideburns, but also the entire side of his head.  In an effort to fix it...he did the other side.  Knowing that he had really screwed up he came up with the best alternative....put on a baseball cap.

Little did he realize this disguise wouldn't last long.  His brother came in, and did what older brothers are supposed to do....knock his cap off.  John tells us that he immediately said "You are in so much trouble."

Now, if I had arrived home before Don...I don't think that Don would have found Mark sitting at the table with a very sad look on his face.  It is probably the one time that I can recall Don being absolutely furious with Mark.  I asked what was going on...and Don told Mark to take his hat off.  I still can see that little boy with half a head of hair.  It was just awful.  I actually thought it was funny and was reminded of a Leave It To Beaver when Beaver did the same thing.  I wanted so bad to take a picture and Don wouldn't let me.  He was just livid.  I took Mark down to the hair salon and they did what they could...kind of an early punk/skater cut.

Another time, I allowed Mark and John to walk down to a shop near the Dairy Queen to get their hair cut.  I actually thought it would be a good idea...give them something to do together, with some sort of responsibility.  Now, I don't know where John was when Mark got his hair cut...but he came home with his favorite hockey player's (can't remember who..perhaps Vinnie Riendieu) number shaved into the back of his head.  We had to endure that for several weeks.

Still, another time was when Mark was about 3 or 4 and we spent a couple of weeks in Destin, Florida.  I had an eye infection and couldn't see well...and Mark did not like the waves.  He spent most of the time near me on the beach while his dad and brother played in the water.  I had some SunIn...spray to put on hair to lighten it.  I had sneaked it because I wanted to bring back some of the blonde in John's hair without he or Don knowing it.  (If Don had known what I was doing and what the Sun In was for, I never would have gotten by it.)  I would spray it on Johnny, telling him it would keep him cooler.

I could kind of see what Mark was doing, but as long as he was near me, I actually didn't pay attention to what he was doing.  Great parenting.  By the time we got back to our room in the late afternoon, Mark was blonde....and he had very dark hair.  I didn't realize it because I couldn't see, and Don didn't realize it until he took his sunglasses off.  We took to Florida a dark haired little boy and returned with a blonde.  As his natural hair color grew in, it was a mixture of dark and blonde.  John called him "Rabbit Head"....and it did, in fact, look like rabbit hair.

We managed with a new little blonde boy.  It didn't harm anyone except for Mark's cousin, Mick Henderson.  Deb came over one morning with Mick and Jeff....and we were going to take the four boys somewhere.  I had been telling Mark over and over again to get his shoes on.  I was really getting angry and told him if he didn't he was going to get spanked.  I don't think I really spanked my kids...they were actually pretty good kids....but the threat was there.

  Deb showed up with the boys and the boys sat down at the table to eat.  I happened to be picking things up from the floor and noticed that one little boy did not have his shoes on...I stood up, grabbed that little blonde boy, and gave him a good spanking.  The little boy turned around, looked at me with a look of shock...only to be matched by mine.  I had grabbed Mick and spanked HIM.  I felt so bad...I hugged him and told him I was sorry...and apologized to Deb as well.  Her comment?  "Oh, that will just save me from getting him later...he will probably need one today sometime."

And Mark?   He sat there with that grin...like he had been able to get away with something.  On his feet, his shoes.

Mark was born with a full head of black hair.  So much so, that the nursery nurse who was a classmate of mine, had cut it in the nursery.  That is a huge no-no...but she asked me and I told her it was ok.  It was so thick, so dark.  He looked like he had a baby wig on, especially when he was next to bald headed Mick a month later.  He never lost it, it never thinned.

Mark liked to have it cut really short.  That way, he figured, it saved him time in the morning.  He could sleep three minutes more since he didn't have to comb his hair.  He even got cheap in his teen years with it, buying his own clippers and having Juliet cut his hair.

When he first went through chemo in 2004, it was probably one of the most devastating things to us.  We knew it was coming.  A week or so before it really started to fall out, Lois came over and cut it super short.  Within a few days, Paul was here and Mark found that he could just grab pieces of it and out it would come.  Paul said "Let me cut that off for you."  Paul clipped Mark even more, and Paul let Mark cut his hair (something that happened again in 2007).  It wasn't shaved, but very close.  As they days progressed, there were bald patches and it was looking really bad.  I suggested to Mark that he let John shave his head....and he kept putting it off.  He said he would call him.  I left to do some shopping, and when I returned Mark was gone.  I couldn't find Don at first.  When I did, he was in the garage, just sobbing.

"That kid made me shave his head."

It wasn't that Mark wanted it done that way...it had to be done.  He just couldn't have his brother do it and he couldn't do it himself.  Instead, he asked his Dad.  It was so hard for Don, and whenever I think of Mark losing his hari to chemo, I see my husband hiding in the garage, crying.

I saved Mark's hair the first chemo round, and when it grew back, I threw it away.  Mark actually liked the shaved look and kept saying that he was going to continue to shave it.  I know he had stubble on his head when John got married and Mark shaved his head for the last time that year the day of John and Tabitha's wedding.  He did grow it back...mainly for me.  To me, it was that he was well.  I needed to see him with his hair again.

When we restarted the chemo (and I mean WE...Mark, family, friends) it wasn't so traumatic for Don and me.  We had been told that Mark would not survive the first week of January and the fact that he was able to lose his hair meant to us that the chemo was working.  Instead, we were concerned with John's sons, and how they would react to Mark without hair.

Mark actually came up with the idea of letting Michael and Daniel shave his head with the hair clippers.  They were interested in it for awhile....and never gave it another thought.  I saved the little bit of hair I could...Mark asked me to stop.  I keep in our Mark memory cabinet in a dragonfly container, the remnants of Mark's hair.  I have a locket with his hair, as does my mother.  We both wore these lockets to Mark's funeral...and every special event since then.

The story of Mark's hair still isn't over.  When he was put on that so very expensive drug, Sutent, Dr. Tan told him that his hair may turn white.  Mark said "oh, great". We could never really see it until May, when he had several weeks off Sutent.  It did in fact, look white.  Mark at first believed that it was coming in blonde.  I told him, it didn't matter.  We knew he would be on Sutent for a very long time and just planned on Mary Sturdevant to color his hair.

The week Mark died, one could see the white hair coming through not only on his head, but also in his beard.  We teased him that he could replace Anderson Cooper....but he jokingly said he thought he might get a job as Santa Claus.   When he died, we asked John if we should have Mark totally shaved....and of course, that is what we had done.  We didn't want any remnants of the chemo, and if we couldn't have Mark's beautiful dark hair back, we didn't want any of it.

All this, from one little kindergarten picture.  It's going to be a great meeting.

Over the years I have been known to collect things....things with sunflowers, things with pigs (had about 90 in my kitche at one time) and now dragonflies.  The others were just things to collect.  The dragonflies are my hellos from Mark.

Today would have been Jimmy Brockmeyer's 31st birthday.  Lois has butterflies around her home and yard (as well as bowling balls but that is a different story) but it was clowns that she used to decorate Jimmy's room.

Every year on Jimmy's birthday, she cooks a fabulous turkey dinner.  Don and I went over there today to celebrate Jimmy.  I wanted to take something to her and was able to find a Precious Moment....a little boy clown with angel wings.

I have learned a lot from Lois. I know that keeping little trinkets around keep Jimmy's spirit with her.  I didn't set out to find something like that....like dragonflies...it just evolved.

Don and I discussed how we could not imagine Jimmy being 31 years old.  We know him only as a little boy.  He has never aged, although we do believe he is walking, running, and of course, Jimmy smiling.

I don't think I will ever see Mark older than 24.  Don says he only sees him as his little boy.  We both feel that he was older, much wiser, than his years.  It was our Mark discussion for the day.....how old we each view Mark in Heaven.  I think he will always be 24, and if there is a bar with a pool table....he is there, just unwinding some more after golfing with the angels.

It still hurts, always will.  Yet, I have my trinkets to keep me focused on his life, and not his death.  My dragonflies make me feel as though he is always around me and the solar lights remind of the same late at night when I am all alone.

Earlier today, I pulled out the pretty box I keep all the cards we all received during Mark's illness and the months following.  I have kept every single one that was ever sent.  I read them all....the cards' printed messages and the wondeful words of support that people wrote on them.  Some of the people I don't even know.  It doesn't matter.  I needed some hugs today and realized when I saw the box that they have been here all along.

I imagine as his friends get on with their lives....get married, have babies, buy their houses....that I forever will be somewhat envious yet at the same time very happy for his friends.  Mark loved his friends more than they can ever imagine.  He knew his illness pained them.  He tried to protect them.

Today is the 4th anniversary of my father's death.  I was angry at my Dad for a long time when Mark became sick again.  It was almost five years ago when Mark first became sick that he promised things would be ok.  I loved my dad.  He never ever lied to me his entire life.  When that damn cancer came back, I felt that Dad had broken his promise.

My dad loved to complain that Mark was a repeat C-section, born just 8 hours after Dad's own birthday.  Mark honestly believed that he was Dad's favorite.  I don't think my parents have "favorite" grandchildren (watch the guestbook now.....those that read this are going to start claiming that title for themselves)....but Mark didn't see it any other way.

Mark was not home when my father died.  He had just completed the 2004 chemo, his hair had grown back, and he was resuming his life.  Our family knew early in October 2004 that my dad's time with us would not be long.  We also knew that Mark probably would be in Monterey, California, on his Pebble Beach trip.  Don and I discussed with Mark whether his grandpa's funeral should be delayed until he returned.  He asked that it not be.  He wanted the ordeal over for his grandmother, and I personally didn't want Mark attending the funeral thinking that it could be him.  We videotaped the service, and when Mark returned, he watched it alone.  When I heard him turn off the tv downstairs, I went down to see him.  He had tears running down his face and told me "I have been to Grandpa's funeral.  Take that tape and put it somewhere where I will never accidently watch it again."

The one person in our family who did not attend Mark's funeral was my dad....the only family member not at Mark's.  I don't think either one of them would have been able to make it through them.

I am remembering my dad today, along with Jimmy.  I just feel that Mark has had a very busy month.  First attending with Jonathan and Kevin Meghan's wedding, then Andrew and Kate's the following week, let alone celebrating his birthday and Jimmy's......all within three weeks.  I think aobut that a lot....knowing that his celebrations are probably more spectacular than the ones the celebrations we have attended.

It is very strange to think that the two birthdays, two weddings, are so interconnected because of deaths of four special young men.

I hope that Don and I can continue to find Mark in everything we do, every event we attend.  I look for him constantly.  I haven't had a dream about him for a long time...perhaps he has just been too busy.

Until he does, I have trinkets.

Jimmy Brockmeyer and Mark had fun the other night, I am sure of it.  I know that the two of them were celebrating the marriage of their brother, Drew.

Maybe Mark isn't really Drew's brother....like Jimmy....but I know they both were claiming that Saturday night.  I know that Drew claims both of them as his.

Selfless people will have great things happen to them.  I know that Drew is happy with his bride, Kate....and they are talking about everything wonderful that happened to them as they drive out east on their honeymoon.

I know the pain of losing someone.  I know John knows the pain, as does Drew, of losing a brother.  Jimmy and Drew, as well as Emily, belonged to the family of East Marseille.  No family should lose one child....our East Marseille family lost two.

Kate readily understood the closeness of this group of neighbors.  She understood the importance of Jimmy, although she never had the chance to meet him.  She knew very well the relationship of Drew and Mark.  She, like Drew, was there for Mark.

We missed Jimmy and Mark at the wedding.  It was one of the most emotional times for me, as I knew it would be.

Yet, there were several things that happened this past Saturday that assured me that these two were not forgotten.  Since I should be on my way to work right now, I will spend the latter part of the week describing, and placing into my memories, the instances that are so special.

In the interim, take a look at t he picture at left.  Kate gave as her wedding gift to Drew, a set of cufflinks.  The cufflinks have pictures of Jimmy and Mark.   His brothers were with him throughout this special day.

See also, the link for a "Toast to Mark".  A special picture with special people, arranged by a very special couple.

To Drew and Kate...have a safe honeymoon trip.  You are so loved.

I have learned over the past week that even though we have tried to establish new traditions and build new memories, there are some things that cannot be changed.  Even though we continue to tag a day or two onto Mark's birthday, the way he always did, it is the days afterward which I am finding harder than the actual day we are celebrating.

It is so incredibly difficult following his birthday.  As his mom, I find Mark's birthday harder than any other holiday or anniversary.  I spent the day after his birthday glad that I had to work a twelve hour shift....it gave me a real excuse not to get out of bed.

I went to Mass on his birthday and it wasn't until Mass was almost over that I saw Scott Gartner standing behind me.  I felt so alone there, so hurt.  I take with me to Mass a book of pictures of Mark.  I figure if I am not paying attention, then I am at least looking at pictures of a real angel.  I was glad to have Scott next to me for the remainder of the Mass.  Afterwards, Scott went to the cemetery and I went to breakfast with a dear friend, Nina, who also attended the Mass when she saw it was for Mark.  I enjoyed catching up with her.  She had known Mark since he was three years old and we laughed about what a stinker he could be.

I went to the cemetery then to pick up the balloons.  I had called Danny on the phone and he told me he wanted yellow balloons.  I knew that Michael wanted purple and green for the Incredible Hulk.

When I got home, I received a phone call from Gwen checking to see how I was doing.  At that  point, I was doing pretty well.  I was pleased with myself that I had so much to do to get ready for our family celebration that I didn't realize that I was really falling apart inside.  This became real apparent to me when I went out to get the mail.  There was a musical card from Mandy, one in which she had planned to put on Mark's grave had she been in town.  It played "living like I'm Dying"...Mark's self-appointed theme song.  As I read her message to Don and me, as well as the letter she wrote to Mark....I sat on the veranda and cried harder than I have for a long time.

Somehow, I pulled myself together and got everything ready for our family celebration.  The boys sent their balloons to Mark, we had presents, we had dinner, we had cake and we had Snoopy Snow Cones.  All the while, I felt somewhat like I was going through the motions.  I enjoyed seeing the boys' faces as they opened their presents.  They were very excited all day about Uncle Mark's birthday.

For the first time in a very long time, when John and Tabitha were packing up, I didn't want John leaving.  I wanted him to stay with Don and me.  I wanted a son in the house on October 6th.  It was then that I realized, no matter what preparations I go through, what plans are made, in the end, Mark is not here.  I almost felt scared.....and all I wanted was John to stay here all the time. 
 
I know that is not rational.  He has a family, he has a home, he has his own sons.  It is just that for Don and me, our house is very very empty on Mark's birthday....more so to me than any other day of the year.  Both Don and I sat on th e front porch for a long time, crying, supporting each other, and being so disappointed that Mark wasn't here.   We also laughed at each other, realizing that if Mark was here....he would be "Out" celebrating on his own..not with us.  Neither of us could find enough energy to clean up the remnant of the birthday party.  It wasn't until several hours later before I cleaned the kitchen, and it was the next day before I took down the decorations.

Celebrating Mark's birthday every year is something we will always do.  We will always have 24 candles on his cake.  We will always send balloons.  We will always have lots of fun, lots of smiles, and build new memories for the boys (and the baby) and the baby in the coming years.

But for me, it will be the day or two after his birthday that I am going to find the most difficult.  I think it is because there will be no more "Mark events" for quite awhile.  There is no reason for his friends to call, meet us at the Stone, and do things that help keep him alive for us.  It will always be a day or two for me to regroup.

It is back to the new normal again.  I feel somewhat renewed after spending time with his friends,  and his brother.  But like any mother, I am exhausted after having a kid's birthday party.

Only a little different.

Happy Birthday, Mark.

So much of my entries in here is about Mark's illness and death.  I am glad that I have all of these entries because each day continues to be a struggle.  I can read back and see that we have come a long way.  Many of the details I think I would have forgotten or tucked way away....but the memories of his birth remain very very vivid to me.

We had no idea if we were having a boy or a girl.  I had picked out two outfits to bring him home...the one that we had brough John home in and a pretty pink sleeper.  I ended up giving the pink sleeper to a friend.

The week before Mark was born was very stressful.  Since Mark was a repeat C-section, his birthday was actually planned to be October 20th.  I thought I had some time.  I called in work the week before he was born because Don's mother was ill.  I had to make arrangements for her to be transferred to a rehab center.  I did all of the legwork.  Things were not working out well having her at home with her sister who came from Michigan caring for her.  I spent time going back and forth from the rehab center to the hospital...completing every form that usually was done by the social workers.  By the time we got her into the rehab center, I was totally exhausted.  Mae fixed us dinner and we spent the evening visiting with Aunt Irene...who I barely knew.  I remember having a terrific headache and went to bed early.

Don was to take Irene to the airport in the morning.  I went into labor about 4am, got up, took a shower, called Mae.  She came down and got John...who asked me why I couldn't wait until the sun came up.  By 8:30, Mark was here.

He had so much hair that my friend who was the nursery nurse cut his hair...a real no no.  He looked like a little Indian.  I also talked to my dad on the phone who gave me trouble for not having him 8 hours earlier...making Mark and Dad's birthdate the same.

We had prepared John for me not being home for a couple of days.  We told him when I went to the hospital that he could get any toy he wanted.  He said  "All I have ever wanted was a Snoopy Snow Cone machine."  By noon, he had it.   That evening, Don brought John to the hospital...he got off the elevator and looked to me that he had grown taller.  I was waiting in a wheelchair just outside the elevator.  He said two things to me:  "Where is my brother?" and "Why are you still fat?"

Mark was born on a Wednesday.  By Saturday morning I was at home.  Back then, C-sections stayed in the hospital at least a week.  I knew I had a ton of things at home to do...laundry and general cleaning....but when I got home, Mae had everything done for me.  Don had been through so much that week with his mom so sick....I was just needed at home.

That evening, I went to bed very early.  Don went to the store and bought a bottle of wine with the year 1982 and came home, placed Mark in the punkin seat and put him in the middle of the kitchen table, and the two of them watched the Cardinals play in Game Two of the playoffs against Atlanta...Mark's first baseball Cardinals experience.

I love these memories....all the calamity in the family during the week of Mark's birth, elderly Aunt Irene fidgeting around in the kitchen while I was coming my hair getting ready to go to the hospital..the whole time running around in her slacks and just her bra,  John not looking much at me (except to notice I was still fat) but wanting to see his brother, Mark watching the Cardinals game with his Dad his first night home.  It seems like yesterday.

I was told by several people that there would be more Mark stories.  Tabitha told me once that he still has new stories, only we are not privvy to them.  I have learned, in time, that all of this is true.  Happenings this weekend helped me understand this even more deeply.

For our family.....it is the intervention of Mark's friends that keeps Mark alive.  I know for Don, that this weekend has reminded him that others have not forgotten what has happened, nor have they forgotten Mark.

At Meghan's wedding, there were pictures of her with Jonathan, her with Kevin, and one of her and Mark.  We knew that when we went there, that we were going in Mark's place, a position that neither Don or I could fufill in the way he could.  It was a night for Meghan and Tom.....yet, there were those pictures, and the feelings that it gave us we are unable to articulate.

Then, this evening.  We went to the Blarney Stone and thought there might be one or two people there.  We were wrong.  So many of his friends and the people he loved were there.  Hearing how he is missed, the way he meant to others.....he became alive again. 

We cannot make it through this without them.  Not only did these people remember that it was his birthday, they remember him as well.

He may have been 26 here on Earth today, but in Heaven he is only two.

He was just a simple little boy with a cute smile, a little boy that loved his brother so so much, a little boy who had a dream that he would be on a state championship team, a little boy who loved and worried so much about the feelings of his friends, a little boy that loved having his birthdays.

A little boy that today, our family misses so very very very much.

Thank you all for once again helping to sustain Don, me, John and Tabitha, Grandma and his aunts, uncles and cousins.

Happy Birthday, Mogey.

I have just spent the past two hours reading every entry I ever put on this website.  Of anything I have ever done, I am so glad that I have this website and all of its entries and guestbook notes.

They help me remember not only those dark times in our family, but also of our continued healing.  We have come quite a long way...but also have a very very long way to go.

This past week my thoughts have been with Ashley Marsters' parents and family.  Ashley was a student at Mehlville who died this week from a heart ailment.  Her parents had sent her to school like any other ordinary day...but she never went back home.

My soul is so filled with thoughts for them.  I have never met the family but I think about them constantly as they begin their own journey this week.  I think about Ashley's teachers and friends.  Please think of them and pray for their strength.  It seems like such a cliche thing to say, yet I know how much all of it helps.

This weekend, Meghan Hearst is getting married.  I think about how excited Mark would have been for her.  After Jonathan died, Mark as well as all of Jonathan's friends felt a special responsibility for Meghan, as well as for Kevin's sister, Kelly.  I do believe that Mark would have driven home from Memphis in a blinding rainstorm if Meghan or Kelly needed him to.  He mentioned to me once that it was important for him and the other friends to try and be there for these special sisters. 

Next weekend, Drew Brockmeyer is getting married.  I remember the anxiety level in the neighborhood was so high during Lois' pregnancy.  When Drew was born...tiny, little  (he HAS really grown!!!) and perfectly healthy....our tight neighborhood was so overjoyed.  I remember the ladies in the neighborhood sitting up all night in Gloria Shelton's garage finishing a special quilt we had made for Lois.  Drew and Kate have permitted me to help them in some of the planning and preparations.  They have no idea what a void this has filled for me.

I was very touched by a patient this past week.  Before I even went into his room, I knew that he had very little time left.  He was pretty much alone.....no family in town but a terrific group of friends (there's that word again).  After several nights of caring for this man, he was told there was nothing that could be done for him.  Before I left for home one morning, I went into see him.  I knew he was going to go home.  He told me he was going to work on Monday to get some things taken care of.  He asked me to stop his home to visit him because he wanted to play "Fur Elise" for me on his piano (the one thing Mark could play).   We never got the chance because he died the following morning.  What I do remember, is that he told me "I will find Mark and teach him the entire piece."  Somewhere in Heaven, the sounds of "Fur Elise" are playing.  Godspeed to you, Mel.

I took a vacation day yesterday.  I slept most of the day and after finally waking up, spent a long time on the phone with our beautiful Lisa.  For me, this was a gift and a "Hello" from Mark....I consider this the start of Mark's birthday weekend.  He always took more than one day to celebrate his birthday.  Today, I am going to make a new floral arrangement for Mark's grave.  Saturday,  we are going to celebrate in Mark's place, Meghan's wedding.  Sunday we are going to the Blarney Stone for dinner...and hope others will join us.  Monday, is Mark's birthday and I will be at Mass at 8am.....then spending the rest of the day remembering, smiling, and getting ready for our family celebration in the evening.

As life continues.....as others experience some of life's great events, as well as the sorrowful ones, I remember how special Mark was in our lives.

Life does go on.....it just goes on with daily tears and the wanting to know "why, why?"