Everyone has that special someone. Nah, not romantically, but someone you connect with on a level that goes to the depths of gratitude. That special someone that has gone above and beyond, has lifted you when you couldn't help yourself, that person who believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself.
That someone who you give credit to for the simple fact you are alive; God knows we've all been down that road where we thought life just wasn't worth living. And there? Hopefully, that someone took your hand, steadied your stride and turned you back around. Thinking of anyone yet?
I'm one lucky, lucky dude. If I took off my socks and shoes, I still couldn't count all the people who were along that path. There is one, however, who can't pass through my memories without humbling me to the core.
If you've read either of my books, you've met my special someone already: Barb. If you recall, Barb was one of the nurses on the 7400 floor of Barnes Hospital who cared for me when I couldn't even breathe on my own. One night, she literally saved my life... and there were many other nights when figuratively she did the same.
Over the last several years, Barb has had a special patient under her care: her son, Mark. Mark was barely into his 20s when he was diagnosed with DSRCT, a rare and extremely aggressive cancer. For years, this guy's courage shined bright as he went through radiation, surgery and chemo. And, with strength from everyone around him, he beat it... for a while.
Earlier this year, the physicians found that the cancer was back - and more aggressive than ever. After much thought and discussion, Mark looked reality in the face, took ultimate control of his own existence and said, "No more treatments."
Over the last several months, Barb and others had set up a web site for Mark, http://www.MarkDewalle.com
Through this site, friends and family stay connected. There is a place to leave notes for Mark on the message board, get info about his condition and activities and even his emotions and feelings.
I never had the pleasure of meeting Mark, but after looking at his site it's clear he was the kind of dude I'd love to hang out with. What struck me more most was the amount of messages sent to Mark and his family. Seriously, the sheer number of posts to his message board was overwhelming. And now I know why...
Earlier this month, Mark knew his time on earth was drawing to a close. Sensing time was short, he sent his sister-in-law out on a covert mission. Two days later, Mark's war with DSRCT came to an end. On the morning of Wednesday, June 13, 2007, Mark bid the world farewell.
Through his final days, he'd managed to keep a secret. Sunday morning, four days after Marks death, Father's Day arrived. Mark's brother handed their dad a card. A card Mark had sent his sister-in-law out to purchase days earlier and with the very meager amount of strength he had left, Mark had signed the card. "The best dad in the world forever, Mark." One final physical gift, indicative of the many gifts of love Mark left behind in the hearts and minds of everyone he touched.
Mark, even in death, reached out with compassion, thoughtfulness, tenderness and love. Is it any wonder his message board was overflowing with thoughts and prayers? It's easy to see how he touched so many people. Mark's life was nothing short of a reflection of his determination to care for others. We should all take note.
Folks, I might be stealing this from Tim McGraw, but we can live like we're dying, or (like Mark did) die like we're living. For me, I'll follow Mark's example: pass along the single thing we can leave behind for others: selfless love.
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