I received a letter from a law firm today. It was a letter that was sent to a former building where I did some work. As with any letter from a lawyer, it’s not the first thing you want to open. When I did, I read with great sadness that a dear friend of mine had passed away. It hit me in a particularly unusual way.
When I worked with this friend of mine, he never wanted his name printed. He never really wanted anyone to know his involvement in what he was doing, outside of the people he actually saw while he was working with me. As reclusive as he was, his outward demeanor was gigantic. This was a man who could charm the socks off of you one minute and then just as easily, drive you crazy. He was the imperfect combination of grace and a bull in a china shop.
Being his friend was an honor most times. At other times, he made it very difficult to know him. It wasn’t the equivalent of Peter denying he knew Jesus, but you get my point. It was tough to be his friend at times. I suppose it would’ve been easier for me to not know him in some circumstances. But I did. He frustrated me more than any man I’ve ever known. He made me laugh. He had my back. I had his back. He loved me. I loved him. Today I found out he was dead, weeks after he passed away.
The fact that I just heard about his passing is something that stings. As much as my friend and I had been through, the fact that I wasn’t there to honor him when he died makes me feel ashamed.
I met my friend at the old Mpls Café on Hennepin Avenue. It was in conjunction with the festival I produced for Camp Heartland called Heart & Soul. My friend was one of the early volunteer leaders for the event. He was the security leader. Through the process of the event, we became very close. He shared things with me. I shared things with him.
In the early days of Heart & Soul, it was a very small team of people that made it happen. My friend was one of them. He supported my crazy ideas. He corrected me when I was getting too big for my britches, and had ideas that had no chance of actually happening. He believed in the mission of Heart & Soul to help kids living with HIV / AIDS and, of course, the mission of Camp Heartland. In the early days of Heart & Soul, my friend contributed hundreds of hours of his time to make sure we had a successful event and we sent as much money as we could to Camp Heartland. At the last one I did in 2005, he was there sharing his friendship with me and asking if he could help in any way.
His friendship extended in to my immediate family. He adored and was amazed by my family and how my wife and I dealt with each other as young parents with small children. He was larger than life and my kids loved that. My friend gave some life saving advice to me when my mother was showing early signs of a stroke. His advice helped my mother find the right doctors at the right time to save her from a severe stroke. How can I thank him enough for that? This man entered my life and made a difference.
As I said, he was a frustrating man at times. He occasionally frustrated my volunteer leaders at Heart & Soul. He occasionally frustrated and angered my bandmates at Bunkers during the run of Mick Sterling and the Stud Brothers. He had a habit of calling people “Sir” and “Madam”, which would puzzle people. For him, it was a sign of respect. For the recipients of the “Madam” or “Sir”, it would come across as unnatural. He had that talent to confound people. That was part of his charm to me.
As I said, being his friend wasn’t always easy. He and I had words a few times to the point of screaming. We hurt each other. We misunderstood each other. That happens with friends sometimes. But I never doubted that I was special to him. He never doubted that he was special to me. It was an unusual friendship.
There were times that we wouldn’t speak for months, but when we did, we were able to pick up right where we left off. That stuff happens when you have that type of friendship. Hard to explain, it just is.
My friend was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer. When I heard that last year, it saddened me. Not just for the fact that he had Cancer and he was my friend, but the actual type of Cancer he had. My father in-law had passed away from that same kind of Cancer a couple of years before. It is a very quick and decisive type of Cancer. My friend knew that, but he wasn’t ready to accept it. He tried alternative types of medicine to combat it. For a while it worked. Today I found it didn’t work.
Here’s what I’m struggling with. I knew he was sick. I last spoke to him late in 2005. I didn’t speak to him again after that. Why did I do that? Why didn’t I check in with someone who had shared so many moments with me and my family, both happy and sad? I suppose the same thing could be said for him. He could’ve called me and told me how he was doing. But honestly, it should’ve been me checking on him. I didn’t. I think part of me just doesn’t want to invest time in to someone who, at times, has caused turmoil in my life. It’s a terrible reason, but I think it’s the truth.
I’m not feeling like much of a friend to him or his memory today. I should’ve been at his funeral. I should’ve known when he died and I should’ve tried to be of comfort to him in his final days. I wasn’t. I didn’t know. I didn’t inquire about him before he passed away.
Any man wants to make an impact with his time on earth. My friend did. He wasn’t perfect; who is? He made friends and enemies; who hasn’t? As much time as I spent with him, there are many things about him that I have no idea about. He was a mysterious man, but at his core, he could show the capacity of great tenderness and love. He showed me that side of him many times. I hope he counted me as one of his friends when he was in the final moments of his life. As I read the letter from his lawyer, I know that he was a blessing to me. His friendship helped me.
His passing has made me examine many things about myself. Death has a way of doing that. I should’ve been a better friend to my friend during this illness. I wasn’t. How anybody acts on those examinations is what defines you as you get older. I’m missing my friend today. I have to think about and improve how I deal with painful episodes when they enter my life. My friend deserves my attention to this aspect of my life.
Goodbye Mark. Thank you for showing me such concern and love and undying support of my personal and professional life and for loving my family. Mostly, thank you for being my friend. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better one to you when you needed one the most.
