I’m sorry, Mark; it was a cardboard container. Let me explain. When Kelly and some of our family met at the funeral home one of the last of many difficult decisions that needed to be made was what Mark’s body was to be cremated in. Now, it never occurred to any of us that he would need to actually be inside of something for this to happen, much less the very expensive caskets that we were being shown. The last option presented to us was a cardboard container. Suddenly, it hit all of us, at the same time,that this had to be the choice. After all, Mark sold cardboard containers. Before we knew it we were all laughing, hysterically, at the appropriateness of this option. Granted, it was the least expensive choice, but that’s the only thing that might have made Mark happier than being cremated inside a cardboard container. I’m not sure the gentleman trying to help us through our grief at this difficult time understood our laughter, but I think the rest of us felt as if a significant amount sadness had just been lifted from our hearts. As I thought about this later, I came to realize that this is how God usually works. Too often we expect a miracle from God, something loud, powerful, and extraordinary. We want to know how God could have let this happen, or why God didn’t do something dramatic so we wouldn’t have to be here today. Those are tough questions and if someone tells you they know the answers, ignore them. God didn’t want Mark to die any more than you or I did. We will find our peace not in the answers to these or other difficult questions, and not in some powerful demonstration of God’s power, but in smaller and simpler ways. We will find it in a cardboard container. In the Hebrew Scriptures a story is told of a great prophet named Elijah. He, too, was experiencing a moment of loss and desperation. Hidden in a cave he felt the rumble of an earthquake, then the heat of a massive fire, but he did not find God in these. Instead, he heard God in a still, small voice. Some translations say it was a soft murmuring sound, a whisper. No translation read cardboard container, but I think you get my point. In the weeks and months and years to come look for answers, for strength, look for joy in smaller and simpler things. God will show up in very unexpected places. In fact, think of Mark every time your Amazon delivery shows up on your front porch…
In a cardboard container!
No matter who you ask, they’ll all say the same thing: Mark Ward was a great guy. Funny as they come, quick witted with the snappy lines or jokes, and always completely genuine. Mark never tried to impress anyone—although truthfully we all found him to be pretty impressive. If you ask those who knew Mark best, they’d tell you that he was also quite fierce about Kelly and his girls. They’d tell you he was quietly and unobtrusively kind and compassionate—he’d be the one to bring lunch to elderly relatives who could no longer get out and about, and the one who would show up just to be supportive when someone was in the hospital. Plenty of friends would tell you his home was always open— Kelly says she was never sure who might come out of the guest room on weekend mornings in Grover. And, we all know that if Mark was around, a good time was not far behind. Mark Stephen Ward was born August 10, 1959 in Lynwood, California. He left us all much too soon on September 11, 2021. He is survived by his wife Kelly, daughters Madison Brill and Morgan Ramos, along with their husbands Jeremy Brill and Micah Ramos. He is survived as well by his mother, sister, and countless family members and friends. He was greatly loved and is greatly missed. Mark told Kelly long ago that he did not want anyone to be sad when he died. He wanted laughter and happiness. While we are of course sad, Kelly wants to be sure we honor his wishes and focus on the fun and funny times we shared with Mark. Kelly and the girls each wanted to share one of their favorite moments with Mark.
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Kelly: On my nightstand sits a small treasure chest. About a year ago, I opened my lunch box at work and there was a note inside. When I got home and told Mark it had “made my day,” he smiled. The next morning, next to the coffee pot, was another note. The tradition started then. On the rare occasions when we went to bed not happy with each other, Mark would take the time to write a note to tell me exactly why I didn’t deserve a note that day. I will miss those notes and him every day.
Madison: As the oldest of the two girls, I think my dad always pictured his life surrounded by sons, but when that didn’t happen, he adapted. My childhood was filled with practical jokes, noogies, and a “walk it off” mentality. He instilled upon us early his love for Notre Dame football, and when I became a cheerleader, I was one of the few girls on the sidelines that actually understood the game and knew if we were on offense or defense. He loved fiercely and lived his life never taking anything too seriously, but those who knew him also knew he would be the first to cry at any touching moment or song, and every single time Rudy received his acceptance letter.
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Morgan: Anyone who knew my dad knew he had a passion for life. He was passionate about his family, his sports teams, his friends, his barbecue, and even his two cats that he “didn’t want.” Everything he did, he did it wholeheartedly and without regret. He wrote me a card that sits on my vanity that reads, “I love you from the depth of my soul.” This is the most accurate depiction of my dad because he truly had boundless love for everything in his life. Just before my wedding, my dad and I had an unforgettable moment with the photographer. She took us out to the courtyard and took a few special pictures of just us. I saw my dad look at me in a way that I hadn’t before. We laughed, and in true Mark Ward fashion, he cried more than I did. After the pictures, I walked in from the courtyard to do one final look in the mirror only to see that I had lipstick on my teeth. I, of course, immediately called him out for not telling me, and we shared a great laugh about it. Those are my favorite pictures of us together, lipstick and all.
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It’s said that many people will come in and out of our lives, but that only true friends leave footprints on the heart. Mark’s footprints are forever tattooed on our hearts, and we are each better off for having known and loved him.
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