SeanFromCanada's Blog

There is a hollow feeling in loss.  A silent emptiness that lingers, uninvited, in the center of the room.  I feel this rot, this past couple of weeks, as I attempt to come to terms with losing Mark.

Our whole company cried as I shared with them that Mark took his own life.  Some openly, many as they changed color, and looked at their feet.  It was a horrible moment as I desperately searched for the words to explain it, to make it – better.

I spoke of what I’d learned at his memorial.  I never knew about his struggles with ADD, concentration problems, memory loss and depression.  I never once experienced anything but Mark’s brilliance and his light – his positive energy, his giving presence and his aptitude for play.  I only knew him to be happy.

My thoughts seem incapable of moving from the good moments.  I picture his two beautiful girls and wife roasting marshmallows at my fire.  I relish to have him water ski behind my boat, just one more time.  I wish he’d sit in my office again, and suggest ways of expanding the capabilities of our products.  In those moments, I didn’t know there was anything but future for us.  I thought we were at the start…

I am limited in my ability to understand his feelings of hopelessness.  I am staggered with sadness as I attempt to put myself into his frame of mind.  I try to seek solace in the fact that he spoke openly with his close family for several years about the possibility of this…but if I’m being honest, the dots remain unconnected.   I am left with the truth – he was ill and he lost hope.

It would be nice to conclude with uplifting wisdom and newly gained insight.  I have neither, nor is that the point of this.  I can say that I’m kissing my wife more often and hugging my daughters longer these days.  I’m smiling at strangers, thanking service providers and responding quickly to friends.  I value these people so much, and feel Mark’s passing has helped remind me of this.  In his death, I am closer to my life.  It is the people, that matter.